


I'd Trade All My Tomorrows For Just One Yesterday

by ladyofdecember



Category: The Venture Bros
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst with a Happy Ending, Depression, Divorce, Drug Use, Dysfunctional Family, Established Relationship, Eventual Happy Ending, F/M, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Love/Hate, M/M, Marriage, Past Relationship(s), Post-Divorce, parenting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-20
Updated: 2016-01-30
Packaged: 2018-03-08 09:44:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 32,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3204665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyofdecember/pseuds/ladyofdecember
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Takes place just after "All This And Gargantua-2". Written in its entirety prior to Season 6 starting so may conflict with the story. </p><p>Doc is in a dark place. He doesn't know what to do or say at this moment. He just wishes he could turn back the time to yesterday. After his family experiences a tragic loss, Rusty struggles to come to grips with what it means for the future and tries not to fall off the deep end.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Slightly inspired by the song Just One Yesterday by Fall Out Boy.
> 
> Again, I wrote this entire fic from Jan 2015-Jan 2016 all prior to Season 6 starting so there may be story conflicts with the premiere. This was my whole take on where the story line was going (or should go anyway).

He's sitting there in the middle of a smoldering plot of land, crumbled buildings surround him and the sickly smell of smoke and burnt... something fills the air. He thinks he's going to be sick.   
  
Shifting slightly on the curb of concrete, really the only remaining bit left on the property of the compound, he glances up and across the way to see Hatred having a tearful discussion with Orpheus. He blinks tiredly and realizes his eyes hurt from the tears and all he wants is just to crawl up in a ball and get some sleep finally but for the life of him doesn't know how or where to even try to begin with that thought so he just keeps sitting there alone.

His heart lurches for a second when he realizes he can't see the boys anywhere and a slight panic sets it until his eyes locate them in the crowd over near Billy.

Rusty sighs and brings his head down to rest on his knees welcoming the pitch blackness and wishing he could just disappear altogether. He thinks back to a better time, times when they would travel all over the world on wonderful vacations as a family. Sure, he would complain about having to go help others or the sheer annoyance of having to travel in his childhood jet instead of just being able to spend time alone at home but in truth he really did enjoy those days.

Things were a lot simpler than they were now. They were a family. He was living in a sort of sweet ignorance back then. Brock was still around and well, everything just seemed so much better. The crowd that had come to mourn the loss of J.J. was beginning to thin out, the funeral service long over and many just sharing their condolences and enjoying the ability to actually converse with one another for once as rare as that chance was. Many of these people did not keep in contact so they relished the opportunity before they would again fade into the distance, never calling, never to be heard from again less another funeral take place in the future.

And here he was wallowing in his misery like usual, all alone and trying his best to remain closed off from the world. No one was paying him any mind or if they were, he assumed, Hatred or the boys were advising them against it. It was for the best, he reasoned. He didn't want to be disturbed, not now, he didn't even know where to begin to deal with everything.

His thoughts flickered to that last hidden bottle of pills he had, a sort of "emergency stash" he kept around. The one inside of the bathroom wall that not even the boys knew about. He hadn't had any amphetamines for a few years now, having felt the need to clean up his act once the boys became "mortal" and could no longer rely on their clones. And somehow in the haze of the last 24 hours he forgot that that bathroom and any and all contents within had been burned to the ground. Those pills were gone, the orange plastic prescription bottle encasing them probably melted completely down around them. Rusty felt despair completely overtake him.

The news that they now had a new company to run lit a small fire of hope within his heart but it was soon extinguished when his mind reminded him of his brother's death. They didn't get along very well but then again wasn't that just his way of showing he cared to people?

Rusty didn't get along with anyone. That much was obvious. But that didn't mean he didn't care. J.J. was annoying, sure, but he was his brother, a part of his already small family that he felt he needed to cling to for life. He didn't want to end up alone.

The feeling in the pit of his stomach was starting to get worse and now he really did feel like he would vomit. Lifting his head from his knees his eyes strained against the sudden bright sky and he was startled to realize someone was standing right in front of him.

Brock is looking down at him as he puffs away on a cigarette. He's got a look on his face that is a mix of concern and sorrow almost. He's wearing a nice black suit and Rusty thinks he's cleaned up nice for this event although he's really not sure why he even came. Brock looks like he wants to say something to him but keeps his stony silence instead until Rusty slowly stands up keeping his gaze low and his eyes fixed at the ground.

Putting out his cigarette with his shiny leather dress shoes Brock then moves closer to him grasping his shoulder firmly.

Rusty glances up, his eyes still feeling dry and tired as ever. "Brock... " he begins but doesn't have the will to continue.

The former bodyguard pulls a tight frown and takes a deep breath, his big hand still resting on the smaller man's shoulder. "Come on, Doc... it's time to go... "

Rusty nods thinking that it's better to just let him take the reigns. He doesn't know what to do or say at this moment. He just wishes he could turn back the time to yesterday.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was inspired to keep this going so I decided to add a little more. This will probably become a multi-chapter fic.

Rusty sat on the edge of the bathtub, the surface was cold but he couldn't bring himself to care enough to move. Outside the bathroom  
he could hear the muffled sounds of a television probably left on by one of the boys as he knew they had long abandoned the hotel room  
leaving him all alone to his thoughts.

He took a deep breath and tried to think of happy thoughts, something, anything to put his mind at ease. Failing that he reached over to the knob to begin filling the tub with water, hoping against hope that a hot bath would help with his battle against insomnia.

As the hot water rose he let his mind wander to the rest of the night's plans. What should he do later? He'd be alone all night more than likely, the boys had their own private rooms after all and they were busying themselves with getting to know New York. Dean after all had spent time here already but had been so poor and so busy with work that he barely left his shoe box apartment.

Rusty shut his eyes rubbing at them tiredly. How many nights had it been since he'd gotten a solid eight hours? A week? Maybe two? What day was it?

To say that his brother's death had affected him would be an understatement. Of course it affected him, he was his brother for  
pete's sake! But the sheer amount of emotion he would be afflicted with, the stress, the sudden abrupt changes in his life, he had had no idea any of this was going to affect him the way it had.

Overwhelmed, alone and just generally feeling anti-social Rusty turned off the facet, undressed and climbed into the bath he had  
made for himself.

What was he supposed to do in this situation? What was there to do?

He thought of his old therapist and how the group therapy session had made him feel a little better at the time. Unfortunately, the man was dead now so that was a no-go. Not to mention the office was back in Colorado, back home and he was so many miles from there now living in this hotel until a better, more permanent place could be built.

The whole thing was just depressing and he felt himself sinking down further into the water, wanting to fully submerge himself and get it all over with.

The idea made him feel a little better and he briefly considered it before feeling entirely guilty at the thought. The boys flashed through his mind for a moment and he sat fully up straight in the tub.

His mind flicked to the room then and he wondered if there was a mini bar at all. He needed something, just something to get rid of this feeling. He felt numb, disconnected and he didn't like it anymore.

Maybe it helped at the funeral, maybe it helped when he saw their home completely burnt to the ground but now he was sick of it. He just needed to feel something again.

Rusty leaned back resting his head gently against the edge of the tub, its cold temperature somewhat soothing against his neck. Shutting his eyes he willed himself to try to calm down, already feeling his heart begin to race violently. The hot water was doing nothing to soothe his aching muscles and he was just so damn tired.

Brock, his mind said. Brock should be here. His heart hurt when he thought about the man and the longing that he felt, the yearning for him to come back was almost too much. If he were better rested, had been taking better care of himself lately he might just be able to cry but he had no more tears left. He had run out weeks ago.

He didn't want to allow himself to think about it anymore, about how Brock should be with them here in this hotel. The money doesn't matter, money doesn't fix things. Sure, they'd be fine. They had the hotel rooms booked and paid for, they had a new apartment being furnished as we speak, all completely paid up in full. The money wasn't the issue and he wanted to scream and shake the former bodyguard so he would just listen to him. It's not about the money. It's about what happened and what is still happening.

Why didn't he get it? He had tried talking to him, tried asking him to stay, to come to New York with them, to be with his family again because they _were_ his family. Brock had just stared down at him, that grim, firm frown gripping his face. He had just nodded and recited the same lines as he had been, "Everything's gonna be fine, Doc." And that was it. He had put them all on a plane with what little belongings they had left and sent them on their way to New York, to their supposed new home.

Rusty felt that same pit of despair creeping up from his stomach again and leaching onto his heart, gripping it like some sort of  
poison. He wanted to right out sob as the reality overtook him that he was alone and would be alone probably for the good foreseeable future.

Brock was not coming. He would never come back again. He'd meant what he said that day he first left them, deciding to instead pursue his own thing and had eventually ended up with Sphinx. He was done being their bodyguard and he was done with them.

This was his life now. He'd better get used to it. And so he sat until the water began to grow cold, until he could feel his hands and feet begin to grow pruney, until he determined that there was nothing he could do to get rid of the loneliness, the emptiness inside of him now. This was his life.

It was 3am when the beeping of his watch startled him awake. It was entirely disconcerting as he had only just managed to fall asleep, able to get he pieced together maybe two hours worth of sleep.

Squinting at the communicator watch he was shocked when he saw the blinking name of the incoming call. BROCK SAMSON.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “'What's a soul mate?'  
> 'Well, it’s like a best friend, but more. It’s the one person in the world that knows you better than anyone else. It’s someone who makes you a better person. Actually, they don’t make you a better person, you do that yourself because they inspire you. A soul mate is someone who you carry with you forever. It’s the one person who knew you and accepted you and believed in you before anyone else did or when no one else would. And no matter what happens, you’ll always love them.'” - Dawson's Creek
> 
> “People think a soul mate is your perfect fit, and that’s what everyone wants. But a true soulmate is a mirror, the person who shows you everything that’s holding you back, the person who brings you to your own attention so you can change your life. A true soulmate is probably the most important person you’ll ever meet, because they tear down your walls and smack you awake. But to live with a soulmate forever? Nah. Too painful. Soul mates, they come into your life just to reveal another layer of yourself to you, and then they leave.” — Eat, Pray, Love by Elizabeth Gilbert

Rusty blinked repeatedly at the flashing watch before scrambling to answer it. Brock's face appeared in the tiny screen. “Hey Doc.”

He let out the breath he had been holding. “Uh... hey.” he answered lamely.

“Look, I wanted to check up on you. You seemed kind of outta it the last time we spoke.”

He didn't need this now, he really didn't. Pushing up his glasses he rubbed at his tired eyes. “Yeah... no, I'm fine Brock, really. Everything's fine.”

The former bodyguard didn't look convinced but he really didn't want to continue the conversation further. “Brock, look, it's 3AM, why are you calling me so late? Don't you know I have... important... work to do?”

“Riiight. Well, I just wanted to make sure you were... you know... “

“I know.” Doc shrugged averting his gaze.

The blonde pulled a face and then continued with urgency. “Look, I was thinking... maybe I should... uh, you know come by for a little while?”

Sitting back against the wooden headboard of the bed, Rusty looked perplexed. “What? What do you mean?”

“You know... come by, spend some time with the boys... “

Rusty bit his lip. Wasn't this what he wanted all along? He'd even dropped more than subtle hints to the man after the funeral. Was he serious?

“Yeah... okay, maybe that would be best.” was all the super scientist could muster up.

He found his head felt a bit clearer with the little rest he'd gotten but he honestly still wasn't feeling all that great. That nagging urge to scarf down whatever narcotics he could scavenge was still there and it was starting to worry him.

Brock grinned in the side of his mouth. “Okay. Well, I'll talk to you soon then, let you get some sleep. Just tell the boys I'll call them in a day or so.”

Rusty nodded, still unconvinced and feeling that if he got his hopes up too much he'd just be disappointed. Better to just keep low expectations in mind like he had been. “Alright, will do.”

“And uh... good night, Doc.”

The screen faded to black as the man ended the call and he was left sitting in the dark hotel room feeling more confused and disillusioned than ever.

 

Plans had been made for Brock to travel to New York and meet up with them to spend a week or more helping them get adjusted. Knowing that he would be arriving and no doubt concerned with the way Doc had been... let's call it “living” he set it upon himself to straighten up if only for appearances.

In the days leading up to his arrival he made sure to eat 3 square meals a day, at least. Yes, he had counted them and kept a record to keep himself accountable. He had also managed to blackout a period of at least 8 hours every night to try to force himself to get some rest and catch up on all the sleepless nights. Of course, that didn't work but he did try his best.

The boys had voiced their concerns to him repeatedly when he explained the need to try to get rest he was missing and had forced him into solitude around 9pm every night. He didn't really appreciate having a bedtime enforced by his own sons but felt touched that they actually cared.

They were having a great time in their new city, going out every night and just exploring every inch they could. He'd warned them not to get into too much trouble or danger but they'd placated him by assuring him they weren't staying out late or wandering very far from the hotel. With Hatred's quick departure and resignation they didn't have any protection between them and the real world anymore so their curiosity was kept restrained by a healthy paranoia now that they did have a respectable reputation in the world again.

Doc was nervous... he didn't really know why. He kept checking his communicator for the time as he waited perched on the end up the freshly made up hotel bed. The scratchy blanket beneath him looked freshly laundered but he had his suspicions it was not.

The boys were still in their rooms no doubt getting ready for the day. Breakfast was planned along with a day of sightseeing and an attempt at staying cheery. This was going to be more difficult than he'd thought.

A quick but hearty knock on the door and he shot up to his feet with nervousness.

“Hey, Doc.” the former bodyguard greeted on the other side of the door. “Ready to go?”

They made their way down the corridor passing room after room and a sea of numbers until they arrived at the boys' adjourned rooms.

Dean greeted them at the door of one and grimaced along with an eye roll explaining that Hank had just woken up and so was still getting dressed. He had basically just gotten out of the shower.

The younger twin moved forward suddenly and grabbed clumsily at the bodyguard. “Missed you Brock... “ he mumbled against him.

Brock smiled and hugged Dean back, amused that he was still wearing one of his black speedsuits he'd dyed. Rusty watched them for a moment before mumbling that they would just meet the two of them downstairs in the lobby.

The two meandered back down the hall towards the elevators. 

“So, wanna put $10 bucks down that Hank takes thirty minutes?” Doc asked laguidly as they stepped inside the elevator.

“Nah... that kids gonna be downstairs in like three minutes, watch.” Brock said watching as the doors slid shut.

He shoved his hands in his green jean pockets feeling strangely forlorn in his old civilian clothes. He glanced over at the shorter man. “Listen, Doc... “ he began as the elevator made a loud popping noise before grounding to a halt.

The bald man stumbled before slumping against the cold metal wall. Brock caught his balance and quickly turned to him. “You alright?”

“Yeah... I think so. What fresh hell is this?”

The two stood silently for a moment waiting to see what would happen. Nothing, that's what.

“Shit... the elevators down.” Brock muttered.

 

Rusty was sitting in the corner of the elevator cross legged style and avidly keeping his gaze fixed low. He took his glasses off and began cleaning them with the tail end of his white jacket coat. He loved this outfit and was thankful that he'd packed it and taken it with him on Gargantua 2. They didn't have much now since the compound was gone. Whatever they'd left behind was mostly tarnished and ruined. He'd been planning on taking the boys on a shopping trip once they'd arrived in New York but had kept putting it off, not really feeling up to a big “family day”. He was secretly thankful the elevator was now broken... maybe he could still get out of this.

Brock was impatiently grimacing at the elevator emergency call button. He'd pressed it several hundred times now to no avail and was seriously considering punching the whole console to bits. But then again, he did want pancakes so mostly he just wanted to get out of this.

Glancing backwards at Doc he found his anger dissipate. “Look, Doc, we gotta talk. And we're not goin' anywhere here anytime soon so... “

Rusty looked up then to meet the man's gaze, an unimpressed eyebrow raised. “Talk? About what?” he responded with a little more venom than he'd meant to. The look on his former bodyguard's face made him feel guilty almost immediately and he hid his gaze to the floor once more.

Brock sighed and moved to sit on the elevator floor next to him. “I think... you maybe are taking J.J.'s death a little harder than you let on.”

“What?! Don't be ridiculous! What is this, Maury?!” Doc tried to respond with false anger to try to shake the subject.

The O.S.I. agent smirked at the outdated reference but let it slide. “I just don't want you to think you're alone in all of this. It sucks. It does. But, everything's going to be fine.”

He was not talking about this. He was supposed to be having pancakes and avoiding any conversation whatsoever about the events of the last month. He was supposed to be pretending everything was fine, everything was back to normal. So why did he feel like there was a pit in his stomach, a black hole slowly growing bigger and bigger the more he talked?

Rusty sighed bringing his knees up close to his torso and hugging them. “It's not... though.” he muttered.

Brock licked his lips and ran his eyes up the outline of the doors concentrating on the space where the doors slide to a close and up farther towards the ceiling. He figured he could probably just force open the emergency exit on the top so that they could then shimmy back up to the floor above them. Hell, they probably weren't even that far down from their floor. His eyes traveled back down and he wondered if Doc knew about the emergency exit. Probably not. This would buy him some time.

“Doc, you need to talk about this. I'm not the biggest... fan... of talking about... things but... “ he trailed off helplessly.

“Oh, please... you're just here to make sure I don't “do anything stupid” or “run off on the boys”. What do you care anyway?”

Brock rolled his eyes and glared at the opposite corner wondering if talking was a bad idea. His eyes found the emergency exit again but he sighed and resigned himself to fixing things.

“Doc, I care. I know you don't think so. I guess it has to do with me leaving-”

“Leaving to go off and fight with what? The leotard clad idiot brigade?? Leaving us to go fight crime because you felt “unfulfilled” in your job? Give me a break!” he interrupted crossing his arms in anger.

“Leotard? We don't even-” Brock stood up. “You know what?! Yes, I was feeling unfulfilled, who the hell wants to spend their life ironing laundry and cooking and cleaning?! I'm a bodyguard not a damn maid!”

Rusty grew silent, anger seemingly forgotten but he still sat arms crossed and facing away from the man.

Brock realized that he was just trying to rile him up so he didn't have to talk anymore about the real issue. He knew him too well. They knew each other too well. “I'm sorry. I just felt I needed to get away for a while and before I knew it I was thrown into this whole... mess that I had to help fix. I can't really tell you anything more than that. I'm sorry.”

Several minutes passed between them before the older man's watch began to beep. Punching the accept call button the matching faces of his sons appeared before him looking concerned.

“Pop?” Dean asked. “Are you guys alright in there? We found out the elevator got stuck and they're trying to fix it. We're here in the lobby now.”

Doc sat up straighter. “How did you get down?”

Hank smirked from behind his darker haired brother. “We took the other one!”

Brock smirked from his stance above him as Doc rose to a standing position as well. “Well, tell them to hurry the hell up. I don't want to spend all day in here!”

Dean shrugged. “I talked to one of the front desk reps and they said they're calling someone.”

“Fine... well we'll just be... here... “

The watch screen went black and the super scientist crossed his arms again in frustration.

 

Some would say thirty minutes of silence when in the room with someone is awkward but Brock would disagree. That only applies to people who don't know each other well. And he and Doc... well they had 21 years together. They knew each other well enough.

Doc had been fiddling with a game of Tetris on his communicator and Brock had been smoking and just biding his time. He had the man right where he wanted him. He'd even elicited a few coughs but nothing more. No further complaints about his second hand smoke. Damn.

Brock put out his third cigarette grounding it with the bottom of his shoe and kicking it to the side with the others. “What do you think about me becoming your bodyguard again?”

The question was enough to make the shorter man flub his game and he abandoned it to quizzically stare at him in shock. “W-what??”

“I think maybe... it would be best for everyone.”

Rusty blinked repeatedly at him. “Well... what about... you know, the O.S.I.? Don't you have... 'important stuff'?”

“There's nothing more important than family.” he responded meeting his gaze levelly.

There was a beat and suddenly tears.

 

Brock found himself being clutched by the doctor around his midsection. It was sudden but not really all that unexpected. He found himself hugging the man back, wanting to give him the care and comfort he needed but hadn't bothered to ask from anyone.

He took a few shuddering breaths and just let the tears continue to fall before murmuring, “You don't... understand... “

“What?” he asked not quite hearing him from the muffled mumbling into his stretchy black t-shirt.  
“You don't understand... “ he continued sobbing all the more into the fabric. “It's gone... all of... it...”

“You mean the compound?” Brock asked quietly.

A frantic nod against his chest.

He tried to rub the doctor's shoulders soothingly but found that he had little to no experience with this kind of thing. “Doc, it's not... gone. It's just... “

“Destroyed?” a small voice filled with emotion echoed around the small space.

“You can build it back up. There's more than enough money for that now, right?”

A shrug replied but the man's sobs quieted.

After a moment he responded, “There... there is quite a bit of it now... “ Pulling back from the embrace finally, he met his friend's gaze. “My brother... he left a lot to me, including his company and... “ he trailed off, eyes finding the elevator floor again.

“Not everything is lost. It's hard to lose someone you love but, everything's gonna be fine.” 

Rusty looked at the hand Brock was resting on his shoulder and took a deep breath before glancing back up at him. “We need you, Brock. I... need you, actually.”

They looked into each other's eyes seeming to read the other's mind for a split second. Brock could have sworn the super scientist had started to lean closer just as the elevator dinged and the doors whooshed open. Peering up at them from the first floor just slightly below was a crowd of people including the boys who looked overjoyed that they were both okay.

Doc moved back quickly adjusting his suit coat and collared shirt. Brock silently wished they'd been given another hour but whatcha gonna do?


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's the end of the world as we know it  
> And I feel fine   
> It's time I had some time alone   
> \- R.E.M.

Rusty was drunk. Not a big deal. Don't judge him. Doctors say it is very healthy and good for your heart to have a drink every day. Or ten. And also, he thinks he remembers it only being wine that they recommend you drink. Yes, wine, that was it, not tequila. Not a whole bottle. What was he talking about again?

His drinking had absolutely nothing to do with Brock's absence. No it did not. They had had their fun little catch up/family day when he came into town but it didn't last. Nope. Soon as he could he was back out the door and on a plane outta there. No matter that he had promised to stay at least a week. Two days. They got two days. He had to go “save the world” or some other sappy, superhero crap that he always gets caught up in. He knew he wasn't back for good. He knew it.

Moving over towards the heavy beige-ish drapes covering the massive hotel windows he sweeps a panel back immediately wincing away from the intense sunlight filtering in at him. That was a mistake. He stumbles a bit backwards, nearly sloshing his Tequila Sunrise all over the carpet. Big deal. That will be the least of the hotel cleaning staff's worries once he finally leaves here, if he ever leaves here.

Suddenly overcome by a pounding in his head, Rusty sat the drink down on the nearby table and carefully made his way to the luxuriously large bed easing himself up onto it and back to lay down and shut his eyes.

Could it really only be 3pm? He had completely lost track of time at this point. How many days had he been here? Did he even want to try guessing what month it was?

Too many questions, not enough tequila. He contemplated sitting back up for a moment but suddenly felt drowsiness overtake him. That was until there was a loud knocking on the door startling him completely out of his reverie.

 

Rusty threw open the door with a dramatic whoosh only to find his previous tenant/neighbor/friend Orpheus standing there looking just worn out as all get up. But his exhaustion quickly left his face as he took a glance over his former neighbor as well.

“Orpheus?” he slurred squinting at the taller man.

“Mr. Venture... yes, how are you?” he moved to step into the lavish hotel room and look around. Ah yes... liquor bottles seemed to be scattered about in what one might think was decoration.

“What... what are you doing here?” Rusty stood crossing his arms across his chest back near the door.

The necromancer shrugged and spun back to look at him. “I thought I'd take a weekend trip and fly here to surprise you. But... it seems that you are in no shape to entertain guests.” The normally cheerful doctor was at this moment deeply concerned by his friend's not only slovenly appearance but apparent drunkenness in the middle of the afternoon. His long flight and battle with airport security forgotten, the irritation he had felt was quickly replaced with worry.

“Ohhhhh, I'm fine!” he replied moving towards the man. “What do you mean? I'm just... surprised to see you here.”

He raised an eyebrow in disbelief but said nothing more. “Where are your boys? I'd love to see them!”

Rusty shrugged taking another long sip/chug of his Tequila Sunrise much to the chagrin of Orpheus.

“Perhaps you should slow down.”

“Perhaps you should kiss my ass.” he retorted finishing the drink and setting it down with a clatter on the table before them.

Dr. Orpheus tried another approach. “How about we get some coffee?” he asked cheerfully clasping his hands together.

 

It had been a few days since Orpheus had rudely interrupted his... whatever, day by showing up in New York at his hotel room. They were currently sitting in said hotel room together.

Rusty was only faintly aware of the conversation topic that Orpheus was trying to get him to participate in but at the moment he seemed to be having a lot of trouble with his CapriSun straw and so he was focusing all his attention on it. He tried tearing the wrapper off the tiny yellow plastic straw with his teeth to no avail. Then he tried jabbing it against the bedspread but only succeeded in bending it slightly. That's not good.

“...and really you know, Al just seems like the type-- OH FOR GOD'S SAKE! GIVE ME THIS!!”

The straw and fruit punch pouch were snatched from his grasp by a very annoyed necromancer who then proceeded to open the wrapping and properly placed the straw into the tiny pouch hole for him. “Are you even listening to me?!”

The scientist rolled his eyes and grabbed the drink back from his friend. “Yes, blah blah blah magic, blah blah blah... I dunno? Cats?” he tried unsuccessfully.

Dr. Orpheus sat up straighter. “I'm glad that you feel so confident in the amount of friends you have that you feel you can completely ignore the very few ones that you do. Anyway... I'm glad to see you up and around. Or at least, up.” he looked around the room disdainfully. “Shall we venture out for lunch?”

He looked entirely too proud at himself for that pun. Rusty sucked down the juice all in one gulp before tossing it aside into the nearby trashcan. “Might as well. I'm starving. It'll be good to get out into the city. Maybe we can hit up Chinatown. I've been meaning to go there.”

They made their way to the entrance of the grand room. “You've been here for two months now and you haven't even visited?”

“Look I had a lot on my plate, okay?”

“Yes, well, I wouldn't call alcoholism 'a lot on your plate'.”

“Ha-ha.” Rusty retorted shutting the door behind them.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Some people are like slinki’s, not really good for anything but they put a smile to your face when you push them down the stairs. Sometimes, these people seem to be your ‘soul mate’." -Unknown

Fast asleep in the comforting warmth of his hotel sheets, Rusty almost didn't notice the trickling in of messages as they filtered in on his brand new vPhone. The damn thing was annoying and he was reluctant to even accept one but somehow the gift made him feel better if not for the simple fact that it was an invention by his brother. He still preferred his wrist communicator though.

The messages continued pouring in. They were slow at first before coming in more and more rapidly.

4:34am [I want to fuck you]  
4:37am [I wish we were close]  
4:38am [We should kiss maybe if you wanna that'd be great]  
4:49am [I would give you the greatest hug]  
4:49am [I wish we were close]  
4:49am [I wish we were friends in real life]  
4:50am [I relate to a lot of the same things you go through you know]  
4:50am [I hate you]

“Oh for God's sakes, what the hell?!” He was up now, yup, definitely up now that his phone was vibrating out of control the way it was, causing a tremendous amount of noise. Rusty sat up, scrolling back over all the messages before he angrily began typing a reply back. “Who... the hell... is this?!” he read aloud the words as he texted the person back. There was hardly a few seconds delay before the person responded right back.

4:51am [Guess] was the only reply.

“Oh god... I don't have time for this.” he fell back against the bed sheets holding the phone perilously above his face. He typed out another reply.

4:52am [I don't know... the monarch???]

Silence. For 10 minutes there was no reply. The Doctor had grown drowsy again and discarded the phone on the nightstand, rolling onto his side to return to sleep. Suddenly, a loud vibration from the phone startled him awake again. He snatched the phone back up to read the response and was not surprised.

5:02am [Can we talk?]

Rusty sighed already aggravated that someone had not only given the Monarch his new cell phone number but now he had to deal with the idiot bothering him with crazy messages. He didn't know if he was drunk or just fucking with him but honestly he just wanted to get his sleep. 

After a few seconds of hesitation he rapidly hit the volume button on the side of the phone switching it to 'silent mode'. Rusty put the phone back on the night stand intending to get some well needed sleep before he was dragged out of bed in the next few hours by his boys or Orpheus or who knows who. He didn't have time for arching anymore. He had real problems now.

  
"Can we cut the magic crap for 5 minutes Orpheus? I mean, really. I'm just trying to eat my burger." Rusty complained before biting into his oversized double cheeseburger.

Orpheus rolled his eyes at the site and picked up his tofu wrap. "Yes, well fine. Anything new with you Dean?"

The younger Venture shrugged despondently, his eyes falling to his small salad in front of him. "Not really."

"Excuse me, I must use the facilities." Orpheus said, rising from their booth and making his way somewhere to the back of the restaurant.

The two of them watched him go before Rusty busied himself with his burger once more. Dean picked at his salad a bit before excitedly sitting forward in his seat.

“So, is there someone in your life?” he asked smiling shyly. 

“What??” Rusty gasped and dropped his burger, grabbing a fist full of napkins for all the grease that went everywhere. “No... what, what do you mean?”

The brunette shrugged. “I just mean... you seem in better spirits lately. I dunno, I thought maybe you met someone in the city.”

“Sorry I'm late!” Hank said sliding into the booth next to his father. He took a minute to catch his breath from obviously running all the way from the subway.

Rusty decided to steer the conversation to his eldest son and spun to face him, irritation written all over his face. “Where have you been??”

The blonde haired boy shrugged and began eating his father's fries from his plate. “Around.”  
“Hey! Stop that!” he batted as his son's hands and raised a hand to flag down a waitress to get Hank some lunch.

Orpheus made his way back to the booth squeezing back into the opposite side of the table and sitting next to Dean.

Rusty's vPhone beeped signaling another seemingly trite message from his arch-enemy. The wait staff all seemed to be swamped as they were rushing back and forth and not one noticed his hand raised. The super scientist turned his attention to silencing the phone instead.

“I don't know how the hell he did it but that idiot got my cellphone number and now he won't stop bothering me.” he complained.

Dr. O raised an inquisitive eyebrow. “Who?”

Before Doc could reply, his son piped up from his own texting. “You mean The Monarch?”

Within a second his father had spun and was on him again. “You gave him my number?!”

Hank shrugged only half paying attention to his surroundings as he texted Dermott. “Well... yeah. He asked for it.”

“Why? Why would you do that, Hank?” Rusty reached up to rub the bridge of his nose in frustration.

Dean smiled suddenly pleased with this new information. “Hey, maybe now things will get back to normal. Your arch-enemy arching you... maybe... we could go home?”

All eyes flashed to the brunette boy. Even Hank set down his phone in silence.

Rusty frowned as his eyes met his younger son's. “No Dean, I'm sorry but we can't.”

Silence seemed to loom over the table despite the noise emanating throughout the busy restaurant. No one talked for at least ten minutes. They focused on their food in a crestfallen manner.


	6. Chapter 6

A quick succession of beeps sounded startling the quiet of the room signaling that someone had sent a text to his vPhone. He winced sincerely hoping it wasn't the Monarch again.

Gingerly picking it up to check he sighed in relief. He wasn't in the mood to deal with that maniac right now.

10:13 PM BILLY WHALEN: hey what are you doin?

He sloppily typed a response back.

10:19 PM RUSTY: drinkking

There was almost no pause in the response back. Rusty wondered why he was even texting him of all people. They hadn't talked in so long. Since the funeral even.

10:19 PM BILLY WHALEN: what? why???  
10:21 PM RUSTY: what doyouwant  
10:21 PM BILLY WHALEN: i wanted to know when would be a good time for me and white to come by and visit. what are you doin next weekend??  
10:38 PM RUSTY: i don’t know yet. where would you stayu?  
10:40 PM BILLY WHALEN: i dunno… in a hotel somewhere. are you drunk?

Alright... this was getting annoying really fast. Rusty put down the glass on the table next to him and sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

10:41 PM RUSTY: what do you think??  
10:41 PM RUSTY: alright lookif you and white want to come all the way uph ere than what the hell?  
10:42 PM BILLY WHALEN: i think it’d be fun to go to new york again. maybe wear our costumes?   
10:42 PM RUSTY: i am not wearing that again  
10:43 PM BILLY WHALEN: come on it’ll be fun… and we can check out the new headquarters too  
10:44 PM RUSTY: yeah i guess. i havent really beenover there yet to see the place

He sighed. He was intentionally putting off the whole 'brand new company' thing for as long as possible. It wasn't him. He wasn't right for the role and to be honest he felt that it had been just forced upon him. He wasn't ready for any sort of responsibility. 

Downing his glass of whiskey he picked back up the vPhone and hastily typed another message.

10:45 PM RUSTY: alright soill see you nextsat

 

It was another late night for the Venture family. They had gone out to get dinner together, again Rusty trying to maintain a semi-regular schedule of eating and of course wanting to spend time together as a family. He thought it would be a good idea. But well, there were always unforeseen circumstances.

They were at some greasy diner in some low budget neighborhood, he wasn't sure where. For whatever reason, it was still taking him an inordinate amount of time to figure out where things were. Probably because he hadn't ventured very far yet anywhere in the city.

Hank and Dean were sitting in the booth across from him, one looking very perplexed while the other... well, he was currently not speaking to him. But what else was new?

“Henry Allen Venture, will you please stop acting like a seven-year-old?” Rusty shook his head at his son with disappointment.

The blonde leaned his elbows on the greasy diner table. “I'm sorry... you think I'm acting like a seven-year-old?! Are you serious?”

Grabbing a hold of the burger in front of him he waved his hand dismissively at his elder son. “Eat your food.”

“Honestly, are things going the way you planned?” Hank asked pinching his eyebrows together closely causing Dean to swallow nervously. He didn't like being in the middle of fights and especially not ones with his family.

He continued, “I mean, we're here in the big city. You have a hold of this great company. Things are actually going really well for the first time in like, forever. But you, you refuse to actually talk to Brock? I mean, I don't get it. The man is practically a God. And he cares about us. He does. But you, you won't let him, will you Pop?!”

Doc sat down his burger gingerly on the plate realizing that the Venture twin was not going to let up. When he got into fits like this, it was very hard for him to let things go. “I don't know what you're talking about, Hank. If Brock wanted to be here with us, he would be. He doesn't. He's busy or some such nonsense, I don't know. Why don't you call him and ask him yourself why he isn't here?”

Hank leaned against the booth seat in exasperation. “You don't get it. You never do!”

Dean had been anxiously playing with his salad and wishing like hell they would stop arguing like this in public. Although no one in New York ever paid attention to other people. It was like some unspoken rule. Now however, he felt he had to speak up so he dropped his fork with a loud clank on the plate. “Hank! Just cool it, will ya? Dad doesn't know what you're talking about, I don't even know what you're talking about. You just sound ridiculous.”

The blonde raised an eyebrow incredulously. “Really? I sound ridiculous? Well, I think Pop and Brock need to stop dancing around their issues and just get it over with already!”

It was Rusty's turn to lean in elbows on the greasy table. “What issues?”

Sighing like it was obvious, Hank crossed his arms over his chest and said “Your issues. Like the fact that even though you've been together for like ever you refuse to tell Brock how you really feel about him.”

“W-What?! What are you- I don't know what you're talking about mister but... you're talking crazy right now.” he replied suddenly very flustered.

Dean stared at the salad in front of him suddenly feeling less hungry and more homesick and forlorn.

Rusty stared at the brunette's sudden change in demeanor. “Dean... what is your brother talking about?” he asked causing the teenager to glance up.

“Well... I think he means that he wishes you and Brock would get back together. I know I do. I miss our home. I don't like it here. I thought I did at first but... now when I think back on all the times we had as a family back home. I want that again. Staying in the city is fun for a while but then you want to go home again.” he looked away again and pitifully down at the table where he had pushed the salad plate away. Hank placed a hand on his shoulder in comfort.

The scientist watched his son finish his confession and sighed suddenly feeling very world weary and tired. “I know what you mean.” He tried to continue but found he had no more answers for them. They were right... about everything.

So instead he glanced out the window and watched the night owls march back and forth down the side walk in the night in a city that still didn't feel like home. Three souls sitting in a greasy diner at 11pm on a Tuesday. Why did everything have to seem so hopeless?


	7. Chapter 7

Orpheus was still hanging around by the weekend. He had said that he wanted to see more of the city but Rusty was sure it was just because he felt like he had to. He was a good friend even if he ragged on the guy a lot. He was very appreciative that the man actually cared if he drank himself into a stupor. In fact, he was appreciative of anyone who cared because that list seemed to be getting shorter and shorter as the days go by.

“Are you afraid of falling in love?” Dr. O asked him leaning in intently to hear the answer.

The two of them were inside the same greasy diner Rusty and his sons had stumbled upon nearly a week earlier. It was quaint and was growing on him so lately it was the only place they'd been going to.

Rolling his eyes, Rusty sat back in the booth purposefully looking away from the necromancer's intense gaze. “No... why would you even ask that?”

He smiled genuinely. “Good... I'm glad to hear that. I think everything is going to be alright.” He then dug into his veggie burger while Rusty just blinked at him perplexed.

“Honestly, I don't think that's going to happen for me.” he trailed off quietly looking out the window at the busy street.

People passed back and forth under the harsh and unforgiving sun that beat down upon them.

Orpheus looked puzzled. “Now why do you say that?”

“Because, Orpheus, I'm nearly 47? and I'm not exactly in the dating game. Let's face it, I've had a good run. I'm not gonna meet someone now.”

“Well... I would point out that your new found fame and success will mean that you'll have no trouble landing suitable partners. But, I would caution you as to the seriousness of those suitors and their eventual gold digging ways.”

Rusty stared at his friend for a good long moment before replying, “Do you always have to speak like that? Can't you just be normal for once?”

“Normal? Who's to say what's normal?” Orpheus smirked at him.

The sound of his vPhone going off surprised him and he turned the smart phone over half expecting to see another harassing message from The Monarch. Instead he saw one from Brock, a man he'd grown sure that the thought of would no longer cause his heart to flutter out of control. He was wrong.

It read, “Hey Doc. In town soon. Get together?”

Rusty tried not to let his imagination run away with him. The implications of the message were too much for him to ignore. Thankfully, another message popped up to distract his thoughts, this time from Hank.

Having obviously received a message from Brock too it read, “Pop, Brock is coming to town and we're gonna hang out!”

He smiled despite himself, happy that at least his son was no longer angry with him and would be content now that he could see their former body guard.

Dr. Orpheus continued chowing down on his burger ignoring the man's obvious moodiness and pining for as long as he could. After a moment or two of the silence he had to break it.

“Who is the message from?”

Rusty set his phone aside. “Oh, well, Brock says he's coming to visit again. And Hank I guess already talked to him about it. He texted me that they are going to 'hang out'.”

“That sounds nice.”

“Sure. Until he leaves again.”

He was trying not to sound bitter anymore. He was failing.

The necromancer set down his burger once more, dabbing at his face with the paper napkin next to his plate. “It sounds as if you have a grudge against Mr. Samson.”

“No... no, no, no grudge. Just a lot of... hostility? I guess? Look, the man decided to run off and save the world or whatever and now every once in a while he wants to come back and “see the boys” or whatever and it's... well, it's annoying.”

“It sounds as if you were hurt by his leaving. I, for one, noticed the severe lack of familial bliss once he departed. Your boys were definitely lacking in their usual cheerfulness and gaiety.”

Rusty shrugged, playing with his food, having completely lost his appetite.

Dr. O continued, “I thought you said you weren't afraid to fall in love?”

Rusty dropped his fork with a loud clank on the plate and the look he gave Orpheus was enough to shut him up for the rest of the meal. They finished eating in silence.

...  
can we fuck?  
You annoy me  
you're stuck up  
I wish you'd notice me  
whatever I can't stand you  
let's be friends

Rusty was scrolling back over the text messages The Monarch had sent him and wondered why he had suddenly grown silent over the last two days when there was a knock at the door.

“Where's White?” Rusty asked opening the door to the hotel suite and letting in his long time friend. He was surprised Billy had actually taken a taxi all the way there from the airport. No call to let him know he'd arrived, nothing.

Billy shrugged and mimicked what he thought Pete sounded like but really didn't even come close. “Oh, you know him... 'it's too hot outside, I'm an albino! I'm not made for travel!'”

Rusty nodded knowingly. He never expected his college friend to show up. He was too much of a recluse. Billy on the other hand loved to travel.

He watched his short friend struggle a bit with his suitcases before successfully piling them into the corner of the living area. He exhaled then turned and looked expectantly at the 'doctor', eyeing him up and down.

“What?!” Rusty prompted him impatiently.

Billy smiled to himself seeming to have decided something. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure, what's on your mind?” he shrugged moving to sit on one of the couches. Billy didn't join him and just stood on one of the stairs leading down into the sitting area.

“Have you ever fallen asleep in someone's arms?” Billy asked smiling. “It's the greatest thing in the world. And I don't mean this flippantly. It is, the greatest thing in the world. Having someone in your life to look out for you, to wonder where you are when you're gone. Just the sheer fact that someone is waiting at home when you get home is just awesome. You know what I mean?”

Rusty didn't know what to say in response but noticed the uncomfortable pang of hurt that struck him suddenly in the chest. He ignored it like he ignored everything and glanced back up at his friend. “Yes, well, I'm sure White will be just fine without you for a while.”

Billy squinted at the taller man. “Are you okay?”

“Sure.” he shrugged immediately diverting his gaze.

“Where's Brock?” he asked knowing just how to zero in on a problem.

“I don't know.” he lied easily, meeting his friend's gaze with a steely one of his own. “Why?”

Billy shrugged moving to walk down the stairs and over to the couch. “I dunno. Just thought you might be upset about him not being here.”

Rusty laughed harshly. “Don't be ridiculous. I'm fine. Why wouldn't I be? Why do you think I'm not?”

“Mostly? The liquor bottles everywhere.”

The two of them took in the state of the room. Damn. He had a point.

“Why are you here?!” he snapped. “To persecute me and bring me down?”

“Whoa, whoa whoa. I'm here to spend some time with you, man!”

Rusty sighed. “I need a drink.”

Billy side eyed him but said nothing. Instead he jumped to his feet with renewed energy. “How about we hit the town together? You can show me what this place is all about. It'll be fun. Like when we were hunting down the Orb!”

“No costumes.” Rusty narrowed his eyes up at him.

“Aww.”

“I am not doing that again.” Rusty replied trailing off with a huge yawn.

“What is this? Are you tired, Grandpa?” Billy asked grinning out the side of his mouth.

“No... shut up!”

“I'm serious. Let's go! You're showing me around. We are getting out of this hotel room.” he said tugging on the taller man's arm and leading him towards the door.

…

After an afternoon of sight seeing and dinner, they headed back to the hotel. Billy insisted on dragging him out to a club later so he wanted to freshen up and get ready for that. Rusty had hesitantly agreed because he'd wanted more alcohol and was successful in getting Billy to agree to a bar instead of a nightclub.

With Billy occupied, he'd decided to check on his sons in their room to make sure they hadn't completely destroyed the place or one another.

“What is that?” he asked peering over the blonde's shoulder at his vPhone.

“Oh it's Jumblr. Yeah, it's great. You get to post things like a blog but you can post pictures and music and stuff like that too.” Hank explaining as he scrolled through the app for his father.

“I see.” he said already losing interest as he made his way across their room nearly tripping over several piles of jeans. “Hank! When are you gonna pick this place up? It's disgusting!”

Dean looked up from his book and his place on one of the queen beds. “Tell me about it.”

Hank continued completely ignoring the two of them. “Hey, look it's one of those question thingys. Hey Pop, 'If you knew you had the right person, would you marry them today'?”

“What kind of a question is that?” he grumbled as he gathered all of Hank's dirty laundry that was littering the hotel room floor.

“I dunno... just one for fun I guess. It's a survey.”

“Survey?! Okay, well then yes I guess I would. But you have to make sure the person you marry is the one otherwise... well, it doesn't work out and it just causes everyone around you misery as well as yourself.”

Dean and Hank were now at rapt attention and staring at their father in confusion.

“Not... that I've ever been married. I'm just speaking metaphorically here.” he shrugged trying to ignore the looks on their faces. “Oh come on! Seriously! Besides, I don't know that I believe in marriage anyway. It's a gamble, right? You never know how it's going to work out so why bother?”

He shoved all of the dirty laundry into a pile in the corner of the room and sat down on the edge of Dean's bed. He let his gaze fall towards the TV.

Dean set down his book finally and scooted forward to join him on the edge. He placed a comforting hand on his father's shoulder. “You never know. There's someone out there for everyone. There's always fish in the sea.”

Rusty glanced at his youngest son (well, youngest in the room) and smiled. Was it weird to talk to your teen-aged sons about love and marriage? Perhaps. “Maybe you're right.” he shrugged.

“Who are you texting?” he asked noticing Hank's diverted attention back on his vPhone. His brain going into overly paranoid single dad mode, he stood up and walked over to him.

“Dermott.” Hank replied while still tapping away with his thumbs.

A sharp pain of guilt rocketed through the Doctor and he suddenly wished Billy would hurry up so they could hit up that bar for drinks.

...

Ten drinks or so later and Rusty and Billy were wandering down the streets of a happening Brooklyn neighborhood having the time of their life. Rusty wondered if he'd ever had this much fun with his friend before. They'd known each other a long, long, long time. Sometimes, he couldn't remember if Billy had been at certain events in his life or not. They'd known each other that long. It became confusing after a while.

Stumbling over their feet, they realized they should probably take a cab back to the hotel. After all, it was nearing midnight and even though it was a Saturday, they had had enough. Despite Billy's protests, he was just as much a homebody as White anyway often preferring to stay at home rather than go out.

Making their way into a cab Rusty sat confused for a few moments as he tried to remember the name of the hotel they were at. Luckily, Billy was there and was able to piece it together so the cabbie could get them on their way.

...

Around 1am, Rusty had pulled up Brock's number on his watch rather than his new smartphone in an effort to see the man's face. He also wanted confirmation that he was actually coming to town. Also, he was a little drunk, just a teensy bit. He sat, wavering on the edge of his queen bed, impatiently waiting for him to answer. When he finally did, he couldn't help but notice the way his heart fluttered just a bit. His palms began to sweat as well. Why was he suddenly so nervous?

“Uh, yeah, Doc?” Brock said as his face came on the screen.

“Hey... Brock. How's it goin?” he tried not to slur his words or look too excited.

The blonde man nodded dismissively to someone in the background waving them away and seemed to be only half paying attention to the screen. “Hey... can I call you back? This is gonna have to wait.”

Rusty's face fell and he sighed. “Well... actually, I had a question for you.”

“Alright, well make it quick.”

There was noise in the background but Brock wasn't in his normal OSI getup. Wearing street clothes, he could only assume that he was off duty somewhere.

Brock turned his attention back to the screen then. “We're just about to get ready to ship out for an important mission. We've been planning it for a year now and it's gonna take the majority of the next year to complete.”

Now Rusty was at full attention. “Wait... a year? I don't understand... I thought... weren't you coming to the city to stay here?”

Now it was Brock's turn to look confused and bewildered. “Are you kiddin' me? This mission... it means everything to me. It's too important for me to take time off and visit, Doc.”

Rusty was floored and could no longer hide the fact of his drunkenness. "Wait.. what? You said, you were going to come this weekend?"

Brock sighed and looked apologetic. "Yeah, I know, I had planned to but-"

Shrugging sheepishly, the super scientist suddenly felt very silly. “Well, it's just... I thought that we had all talked about you... y'know coming to New York and living here. Y'know... with us and the boys?”

A beat passed and then another. Brock seemed to be looking at something off screen again, or someone maybe in the background. When he looked back at the screen something had changed in his eyes that Rusty would not recognize until upon reflection maybe sometime later when he was more sober.

Brock sighed deeply, peering into the wristwatch solemnly. “Doc, I don't know that that's ever going to happen.”

The older man could swear he heard the waves of the ocean rushing at him or maybe it was just the blood whooshing through his ears. He had to sit down but finding himself already sat he allowed himself to fall back onto the bed behind him still locking his gaze with his former bodyguard's.

“Oh.” was all he found he could say.

Brock had to go shortly after that but that didn't stop the doctor from remaining in his same spot laying on the bed staring at the ceiling.

...

Billy was concerned. At least he looked concerned as they stood in the middle of the lounge/living area of the way too fancy hotel suite that he somehow was lucky enough to stay in. Why was that again? Oh yeah. His brother's death.

Billy was saying something to him. Two words... he couldn't quite make out what they were. He'd better pay attention.

“...I honestly don't know why I bother.” he had been saying.

Rusty blinked slowly at his friend trying to pay attention before taking another sip of his scotch, the ice making a nice clinking sound in the glass.

“What's wrong?” Billy asked urgently, his face seeming to begin to panic.

The super scientist shrugged and began to turn and walk away from him. “Nothing. I just felt like having a drink. Is that a crime?”

Why was Billy acting so weird all of a sudden?

“It's alright. Everything is going to be alright.” Billy seemed to be pleading with him for some reason. He laughed at the strangeness of the situation, the absurdity. Really, the little man could not hold his alcohol.

“I'm serious, Rusty. What's wrong? What is it?!”

His younger friend's eyes were wide with worry and something else... fear? No, that can't be right.

Rusty paused in his stroll around the suite to move back closer to the man. He sipped at the scotch again and studied his facial expression. “Look, Billy, there's nothing wrong with me. You're the one rushing in here and bombarding me with all these questions. I'm just minding my own business here and trying to relax, alright?”

Suddenly the mood of the room changed. Billy stood a little straighter and something changed behind his eyes. “Where do you think we are?” he asked.

Rusty blinked slowly, his eyes closing for a moment and when he opened his eyes again they were suddenly outside. The cold, harsh wind whipped around the two of them and seemed to be whip his long blue robe around his thin and frail body.

He was confused. Where were they?

Glancing down he noticed where he was standing, high up above the busy city street below. He was standing on the very ledge of the hotel roof seemingly 52 stories high. The people and cars below looked like ants.

Gripped by terror radiating throughout his entire body and the fear of falling Rusty threw himself backwards and away from the ledge. The glass he had been holding flew and shattered on the cement of the roof. Billy, standing a few feet behind him jumped back and out of the way as his body cascaded onto the ground unceremoniously.

His right arm skidded painfully against the harsh concrete, his chin colliding with it as well in a very sobering manner. He blinked a few times to try to wake up from this suddenly nightmarish dream he was in. All he could hear was the click-clacking of the orange prescription bottle that had poured out of his robe pocket and rolled a few feet away. With horror, he realized just what the bottle contained.

This couldn't be happening.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, here we go, the beginning of the end of this story. I've put a lot of effort and time and focus into this story. I've been writing fanfiction for over 10 years but like this story for some reason really spoke to me and I've been really trying to make it sound good. I've done a lot of edits. I've even written a couple of chapters and completely deleted them out of fear they weren't good enough. Mainly, I've felt the rush to complete this before season 6 comes out because I'm sure the stories won't line up. Obviously, I mean Doc and Jackson are open minded but I doubt they're gonna put these characters in the situations I'm seeing them in. But that's what fanfiction is for anyway.
> 
> ...
> 
> “Find someone you can compete with. Find someone that challenges you as a person. Find someone that makes your blood boil and makes you crazy because in the end, that person is never going to bore you. They’re always going to be around. They are going to be the spice of life you need to keep going. That passion, that spark. That’s what relationships are made of.”

Do you know what it's like to wake up one day and realize you've been living in a nightmare? To suddenly be soberly aware of the mistakes and bad choices you've been making? It's a very sobering experience and the irony of the phrasing is not lost on Rusty. Not at all.

He's gone to see a doctor to get checked out to make sure he's in good health. Billy checked him over but upon the good doctor's and both of his son's insistence, Rusty had made a promise to go to a doctor's office as well and get a full range of tests done. Probably a good idea, all in all. He hadn't been to any real medical provider in quite some time. Unless you counted scamming doctors in Mexico for illegal narcotics.

Seeing that everything was in good working order, not great but still good for a man his age, the doctor had passed him with flying colors. He was then, in turn, pressured into seeking out and going to a therapist on a weekly basis. This was Dean's suggestion you see, as Hank had a much quicker solution in mind. He'd suggested just turning to the internet for his therapy. The scientist couldn't argue with that but felt that it'd be best to follow both of his son's suggestions and guidance for optimum family harmony. Not to mention the enormous amount of guilt he felt for pretty much selfishly dissolving into a useless pile of crap for the last several months. It was time to get his shit together.

After a few sessions of therapy, he was finally beginning to feel comfortable talking about his problems with a licensed professional. It was hard, okay? He'd never been comfortable opening up to anyone really, much less any sort of therapist. It had a lot to do with his father.

Well, to be fair, he wasn't really talking about all of his problems with the therapist, just his main one which seemed to be his dependence on alcohol. He'd glided over the fact that he had a tendency to abuse amphetamines at first but she had soon caught on to him and he'd had to confess.

Things seemed to be normalizing again and for once, he began to feel a little freer, a little lighter with more of a lift in his step when he walked. Hank and Dean seemed pleased anyway and that was all that mattered. If it was the last thing he did, he'd make them proud of him. He couldn't seem to forget the look on their faces upon discovering him so off his rocker that night nearly two months back. The memory sometimes kept him up at night.

Billy had managed to drag him back downstairs to his hotel room. How the shorter man got his 150 pound self off the roof and back down to safety still baffles him. As he sat up against the headboard on the hotel bed, shaken and feeling so very out of touch with reality, he vaguely registered his sons rushing into the room.

They stared down at him with a mix of both tears and anger playing across their faces. The very thought of it now makes him shudder in horror. Thank god he got his shit together... again.

After helping him get back into the swing of things as best he could, Billy unfortunately had to return home. He had said something about not being able to trust White with the house and what a mess he must be making, some nonsense like that. But Rusty knew the truth. He knew the doctor just missed the albino and wanted to go home.

He smiled, happy that at least his two closest friends could find happiness. If nothing else, they had each other and that was beautiful. Now, if only, he could find someone like that.

…

“Avoiding things that remind you of your loved one. Extreme anger or bitterness over the loss. Imagining that your loved one is alive. Seeing or hearing things that aren’t there??”

Rusty sat back from his laptop in shock. He laughed at the ridiculousness of the wording on the website and threw his hand up in the air as if to say just how ridiculous they were being but he was alone and upon realizing this felt ridiculous himself.

He sighed deeply and continued reading. It was apparently good for him to do his research about this in an effort to get over his addictions. Rather, it had been decided for him that this is what he would be doing in order to get over them.

“The five stages of grief, yadda yadda yadda... allow yourself to feel what you feel when you feel it. Acknowledge your feelings about the trauma as they arise and accept them. Accepting your feelings is part of the grieving process and is necessary for healing?“

There was the sound of the front door opening which distracted him from the article and he paused to glance up to see who was approaching. It was Hank, casually strolling over to him. What time was it? Probably about dinner time. He'd been reading these articles just about all day.

He wondered where Dean was and began to search for his vPhone.

“Hey Pop, what's goin on?” Hank asked sounding very chipper.

Texting his youngest, he sat down on the couch once more. “Nothing. Do you know where your brother is? We should grab something to eat.”

Hank joined him on the couch, picking up a magazine that lay haphazardly open on the edge of the coffee table. “Nah... haven't seen him.”

The blonde boy glanced over towards the laptop screen that still sat on the table. He did a double take before throwing the magazine on the floor and grabbing it to see what his father had been doing.

“Hey!” Rusty shouted, trying to pry it away from his son's grasp.

“Denial? Anger? Bargaining?” Hank read aloud in amusement. “What is all this?”

“None of your business, Mr. smart guy!” he said and continued trying to get the laptop away from his son's death like grip. “And, when did you become so damn strong?!”

Hank frowned as he continued reading farther down the page. And as his expression grew more and more grave, Rusty felt he no longer needed to attempt to get the computer away from him. He stood, hands falling at his side uselessly as Hank continued silently reading the article.

He looked up finally. “Pop? Are you okay?”

The look on his face just about killed him and he had to turn away finally, busying himself with locating the magazine he had discarded behind the arm chair and focusing his eyes on it and only it. “Yes, Hank, I'm fine.”

But, the words didn't sound fine. They sounded agitated and hastily said as they slipped out through gritted teeth. Straightening the magazine on the table and then the pile of magazines so they were straight, he realized he was quickly running out of things to awkwardly do until his son dropped the subject.

Hank stood up, setting the laptop on the couch cushion next to him. He placed a gentle hand on the older man's shoulder.

“Let's just go to dinner.” Rusty muttered, not wanting to think anymore about it tonight.

…

Hank is walking down the street and he knows, he knows that he should be home already. But what is he doing? He's heading to this new secret club he's heard about. The word on the street is that you have to be 21 or older to get him but he has a secret plan. He's going to find a way to get inside if it kills him.

Hank turned the corner, jogging a little in anticipation as he neared the front of the club. A very stern looking bouncer stood outside the front door, clipboard in hand. The blonde boy ventured his way over, completely ignoring the line of various women and men.

"Hello there, Mr... ?"

"End of the line." the man barks, barely looking up.

Hank puts on his best and most charming smile. "Okay, Mr. End Of The Line."

The man looks like he's in no mood for jokes and puts the clipboard aside quickly to deal with the nuisance interrupting his night. "You got a problem, pal?"

"No, no problem. I was just wondering if you wouldn't mind letting me in, see I forgot my ID and-"

"Get outta here. What are you, like 12?" he barked at him, crossing his arms over his chest.

Hank's smile faltered. "No, I'm... 21. I just lost my ID-"

"No ID, no in, got it? Get outta here!"

A few of the women at the front of the line began to laugh at him as he turned to sulk away. Okay, so he wasn't getting in the club. Maybe he could find another bar or somewhere he could sneak in? Hank sighed and decided he'd better just head back to the hotel. This never would have happened if Dermott were here. NYC was really turning out to be lame.

…

Dean has been exploring the city's art museums and learning a lot. Tonight however, he's at the hotel like he should be and currently relaxing in a nice bath. His mind wanders to his brother and where exactly he is at this time of night.

Hank was never one for rules. He's a stickler for bucking them, in fact. Dean can respect that, in some instances, but mostly he feels it's disrespectful to their father. After all, this is the man who raised them, well sort of. They should still show him respect.

They'd had their differences, sure, but after Uncle J.J.'s death and how hard it hit their father, Dean could only offer a supportive shoulder. Minor disagreements no longer mattered. Family was all there was. And he certainly didn't want to add any more to his father's troubles.

Stretching his legs out from the hot bath water, Dean shrugged himself further down beneath the water level, bringing the bath up to his stubble covered chin. He sighed, beginning to feel content and super relaxed. He closed his eyes, resting his head back against the porcelain of the tub and letting his mind drift aimlessly.

The image of the compound filled his mind and suddenly Dean felt a lurch at his heart. His home, where so many memories had been made, was gone. The place where they'd shared so many nights of his father's famous macaroni & cheese dinners. His adventures in pet ownership happened there, his inability to train Giant Boy Detective properly resulting in out of control behavior from the dog. And then there were all those adventures with Brock before Uncle Vatred came around.

Dean thinks he misses Brock most of all. The compound was their home, they were a family there, all of them living together under the same roof. That will probably never happen again, especially now that they live way out here.

Dean sighed, sitting up from his slumped position, deciding it'd be best to get out now. The water, after all, was growing lukewarm.

Draining the tub, he moved towards his towel on the rack to dry off and put on one of the hotel's fancy, complimentary robes. The hotel really was nice, his father was going all out. After being placed here by the O.S.I. temporarily, his father's new lawyer had moved to get the finances going as quick as possible as the O.S.I. wouldn't cover their stay forever. His father, with his new lines of credit, had to take over control of payment and they'd been settled in here ever since.

Dean wondered when his father was going to meet with him further. What was his name? Larry? Barry? Well anyway, he'd better meet with him soon. They couldn't just continue living in this, lavish as it was, hotel suite. They had to get a proper place to live. Pop had really been dragging his feet.

Now adorned in the fluffy, white robe, Dean made his way out of the bathroom and into the main part of the suite. His and Hank's room was much smaller compared to the master suite their father had but he didn't mind. Having stayed in a tiny apartment in New York previously, he didn't mind making the most of the space he was given. Not to mention, he'd shared a room with Hank for most of his life so he didn't mind so much now.

As he settled down on the edge of the bed, his thoughts turned to his old room, the one he had furnished up in the attic. It was very nice and he'd been enjoying his new found space and freedom from his twin brother. The privacy afforded to him was amazing, even if it meant his father was constantly trying to get in his room to spy on him. It was too bad, they'd never again get to walk those grounds or just explore the woods behind it near the Old Potter House.

Dean sighed to himself, feeling melancholy. He started at the sound of the hotel door opening and shutting. It was a moment before he was able to see who exactly was coming in. The footsteps grew louder until his brother appeared from around the corner, looking very tired.

Dean quirked an eyebrow. “Out late?”

Hank waved his hand at him seeming to want to avoid any sort of lecture he may have queued up. Dean watched as the blonde boy made his way to the other queen bed and collapsed on it, still fully clothed.

“Where were you?”

The question rang out in the dead silence of the room and after a moment when it became apparent Hank wasn't going to answer him, Dean stood up ready to storm out. The flood of rage and anger appeared out of nowhere and he suddenly felt like he was going to explode.

Hank was laying on the bed, one arm covering over his face and eyes. He wasn't asleep although he may be in a second.

“Henry Allen Venture, you are the worst!! The worst!” Dean yelled nearly stomping his feet.

This finally compelled the older twin to move. He glanced over at the state of his fuming brother, dressed in that fluffy, white spa robe and burst out laughing at the sight.

This only infuriated and confused Dean so Hank sat up and placed an easy smile on his face. “I'm sorry... you just look... ridiculous!”

Dean rolled his eyes and started towards the tiny closet they were sharing to look for some clean pajamas to wear.

Hank bit his lip and glanced at the far corner of the room, deep in thought. After a moment, as Dean was heading back towards the bathroom he cleared his throat, stopping him in his tracks.

Dean glanced back at his older brother with a curious look on his face. “Yes?”

The blonde shrugged and averted his gaze, seeming to try to find the proper words. “Uh... nothing, I guess. It's just, tonight was terrible.”

Dean walked back over to the bed and let his arm full of pajamas drop onto it. He sat next to his brother.

“You want to talk about it?”

Hank shrugged. "It's not a big deal, it's just... I miss Dermott. I miss our home."

Dean let his eyes follow his brother's gaze to the bottom of the TV stand in front of them. A moment of silence moved between them.

"It'll be okay, Hank. We'll get used to this new place soon. And hey, New York has a lot of cool places to visit. Maybe we should go out more."

Hank got to his feet. “Maybe you're right. Hey, are you done in there? I think I'm gonna take a shower and go to bed. It's late.”

Dean stood up to grab his pajamas once more. “No, I'm done, go ahead.”

The older brother disappeared into the other room, firmly shutting the door behind him. Dean smiled to himself. Maybe they would be okay here in the city, as long as they stuck together as a family.

…

Rusty was having trouble believing the situation before him. He was currently standing in his hotel suite, opposite the Monarch, and staring at a very expensive gift of wrapped china.

The man before him seemed to be offering it up as a peace offer in the weirdest 'make good with your enemy' scenario he had ever heard of.

The Monarch shifted his stance from one foot to the other, his face contorting from friendly easiness to a sort of aggravation. He crossed his arms. “Well, if you're not going to thank me... “

“Thank you?! Thank you?! I don't-I can't-Why the hell are you here?!” Rusty stared at him incredulously.

“I told you... I want to make amends, in the grandest sense of the word. It's time we put these petty battles to rest.”

“I... I don't even know why you're mad at me or why you've been torturing me all these years!”

The Monarch spun away from him then. “Oh, sure! Of course, you don't! That's just-that's just typical, isn't it?!”

Rusty brought a hand to his face in exasperation. He couldn't believe this was happening. Was this happening? Was he drunk again or strung out on pills? Surely, he was dreaming. Or maybe he was dead?

The Monarch ambled about the hotel room glancing here and there, seemingly impressed with the décor. He tutted here and there as he examined things.

The scientist sighed in frustration and wondered how exactly he was going to get this insane man out of his room without a fuss. He glanced at the wrapped up box in confusion. “So... great, I have this... china now... you're... free to go.”

“Aren't you going to thank me?” he replied, without turning back around to face him, his voice pinched in thinly veiled irritation.

And that was it. That was the last straw. For whatever had been holding Rusty back until now was gone, diminished with that one statement. He felt irritation rising in him, the anger building up quickly, ready to explode. Everything that had happened up to this point, every little trigger he'd experienced since his brother's untimely and sudden death, came rushing to the forefront of his mind. Every hassle, every obligation thrust upon him, every little thing was suddenly wearing down on him, making him feel as though he had an anchor on his back, weighing him down.

He snapped. “Thank you?! You want to be thanked! Fine! Here you go!”

He began undoing the ribbon to the cardboard box and yanking out the fine china dishes one by one.

“Great! Let me THANK YOU!”

One by one he began smashing them on the ground and then alternating between throwing them against the walls and the mini kitchen area's countertop. The Monarch stood agape and in shock as his former arch enemy seemed to be having a mental breakdown right in front of him.

The door to the suite clicked, the familiar sound of a card being inserted into the lock and unlocking the door for the person. In walked his sons, who began to run over once they heard the commotion.

“Pop?!” Hank shouted in horror.

“Daddy?!” Dean joined in.

“Oh great, you're here too, well maybe you can talk some sense into your crazy father. That's not how you accept a very expensive gift!”

Rusty paused in his destruction at the sight of his boys. He huffed and puffed, seemingly out of breath and red in the face from the exertion. “Oh... hello boys.”

“Pop, what are ya... what are ya doin'?” Hank asked, eyebrow quirked in confusion as he took in the sight of the man surrounded by broken shards of porcelain everywhere.

“Oh, you know... entertaining a guest.” he mumbled awkwardly.

Dean pulled a face. “Those seemed nice.”

The Monarch crossed his arms in irritation. “They were. And expensive too.”

“Okay, fine! Jesus! Thank you! Are you happy? Thank you for buying me expensive china!” Rusty complained.

“You're welcome. See? Was that so hard?”

Rusty stared at the gleeful look on his enemy's face. Feeling exhausted and emotionally spent he just rolled his eyes and moved to look for any sort of broom and dustpan he could use to gather the shards of shattered plates. Figuring the hotel suite would have at least a broom, he began checking the closets.

The Monarch turned and followed him while Hank and Dean hung back whispering to each other. “Look, I wanted to come by to say hello and talk.”

Rusty raised an eyebrow. “Is this about all those insane text messages you sent me?”

He blushed. “Oh... you... you got those?”

Finding nothing in the closets, he spun around to face the Monarch again. “Uh... yeah? You sent them to my phone. And, don't be asking my son for my personal information anymore, okay? Just... just don't.”

He took in the stance of his “arch enemy” and immediately noticed three things; one, he seemed more glum than usual, completely lacking in any sort of manic energy he normally held. Two, he held bags under his eyes, seeming to have been suffering from a lack of sleep. And finally, three, the man was actually wearing a black trench coat. Rusty couldn't remember ever seeing him in anything outside of his outrageous butterfly costume.

He quirked an eyebrow, “Going for a change in fashion, are we?”

The Monarch glared at him. “What? It's cold outside! A man can't wear a coat?”

Hank and Dean approached them quietly and Rusty peered over the man's shoulder causing him to turn around to face them as well.

“Uh... Dean and I are gonna go... uh... eat.” Hank mumbled.

Rusty narrowed his eyes suspiciously at the two of them but they each rushed out of the room before he could say anything.

“You got some really bright kids there, some really... real geniuses.”

“Hey, shut up! You don't even have any kids! Who're you going to leave your gigantic, obnoxious flying cocoon to once you're gone?”

The Monarch sighed at how out of touch the man was, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You... you don't... wow, we really need to catch up.”

Rusty moved past him towards the kitchen area again. “How about no? I still have to clean this place up. Oh and also? I don't care.”

“Look... I just... I came out here to talk to you. I know we don't always... get along-”

Rusty laughed loudly. “Get along?! You've tried to kill me every day for like that last, ten years at least!”

“Twenty.” he corrected him.

“Twenty! Wow!”

“And... kill is such a strong word when really all I wanted to do was seriously maim or injure you. Never kill, really.” he shrugged.

Using a bit of newspaper to scoop the shards of china into the nearby trashcan, Rusty continued, “Look... what do you want from me? Don't you have like... friends or something to talk to?”

The taller man sighed. “Maybe I don't, okay? Does that make you feel better? Does that make you feel like a big man?”

The scientist straightened, chuckling. “Well... kind of. It is kind of funny.”

Silence followed and so Rusty cleared his throat. “Sorry.”

An awkward pause, then, “I'm... getting a divorce.”

“I'm sorry?”

The Monarch walked over towards the immense floor to ceiling window and peered down at the street below. “Dr. Girlfriend and I are... having difficulties. I'm afraid it's... it's over... “

He made a choking sound, covering his face with his hands as Rusty stood behind him watching, mouth agape.

“Uhh... there, there?” he tried, awkwardly patting him on the shoulder.

“Oh, I don't want your sympathy, you ass!” The Monarch shouted, turning on his heel to angrily poke his finger into the shorter man's chest.

Rusty shoved his hand away. “Well, what do you want then? Jesus, you come here, disrupting my life, into my house and start acting all crazy. You butterfly freak, can't you just leave me alone?!”

“Oh yeah, cause that's what you want. You want to be left alone so you can... so you can, what? Just dissolve in a bathtub of liquor and amphetamines? Is that it?”

“Oh, big man! You think you're so smart, don't you?!”

The Monarch moved toward him again, continuing to jab his finger into his chest over and over. “Yeah, I know you, you forget that, don't you?! I knew you way back when! Way back in college! You were an ass then and you're still that same ass now!”

Rusty scoffed. “You didn't know me in college, whatever!”

“Are you freakin' serious, right now? I didn't... I... I didn't?! You know what? You're just a sad little loser, Rusty, and no amount of drugs or alcohol are gonna fix that!”

“Go to hell!”

Shoving past the super scientist, he stomped over towards the front door of the hotel suite. Taking a deep breath, he swung open the door and called over his shoulder, “Good luck with the business! I'm sure running a company is super easy! You totally won't tank it in like, two months!”

Slamming the door as loudly as he could, he took off down the hallway towards the elevator leaving a fuming Rusty still inside.

…

Dean leaned against the wall of the elevator, letting his head rest against the wall too, just watching the numbers change from floor to floor as they descended. Beside him, Hank was busy fiddling with his phone in order to call Brock.

The elevator dinged, the doors opening and the two of them stepped out into the large lobby. Dean led the two of them out towards the front near the street as Hank tried calling Brock on the video chat app.

“No answer.” Hank frowned as Dean watched over his shoulder.

“Just try regular calling him.”

Having more luck going that route, Brock answered on the second ring. “Hey Brock!” Hank chirped happily.

“Uhh... hey Hank, listen... I'm gonna have to call you back-”

“No way! You gotta listen to me! This is important.” Hank insisted impatiently, tired of constantly being ignored by the man.

Behind him, Dean struggled to hear what was going on on the other line. The lobby was noisy as multiple customers were checking in and out.

Brock sighed. “Okay, fine... what is it? But make it quick.”

Dean shouted at the phone causing his brother to wince. “It's Pop! He's in trouble!”

“What?! What happened?”

“Geez, Dean-o! You mind?”

“Hank! What... Happened?”

Hank moved away from his twin brother. “It's Pop... the Monarch's here and yelling at him in the hotel room upstairs and... well, I dunno, it just seemed like we oughta call you.”

Brock sighed, glancing across the room at Shore Leave and the others who were currently discussing some sort of card game, a poker tournament or something that they wanted to hold. He bit his lip, trying to determine if the Monarch was a credible threat or not.

He could hear a struggle on the other end of the phone. The boys were obviously fighting over control of it.

Finally, Dean's voice sounded in his ear. “Brock? Do you think Pop's in danger?”

Brock remembered how relieved he'd felt when the Monarch had showed up to the club, announcing to all the other villains that only he was allowed to arch the doctor. He recalled how he'd left, confident that no further harm would come to the man. Little did he know, the Monarch intended to kidnap him and take him back to his house in Malice.

After he'd found out, a little too late, he'd been angry but upon hearing that the scientist got back home safe and sound, he'd cut his losses and never brought it up. Still, this time, he felt a little voice in the back of his head urging him to take action and put a stop to whatever the costumed idiot was up to.

“Dean... I don't think your father is in any danger. But, I do think maybe it's time I pay a visit and check up on things.”

…

On a Tuesday afternoon, just as Rusty was finishing lunch with Dean at their favorite cafe, his phone began to go off with an unknown number showing on the screen. He pushed it aside silencing it and going back to his sandwich.

“Pop! You can't just ignore a phone call!”

“Sure I can. See?” he replied, munching on his BLT.

“What if it's important?!” he complained quickly reaching out and answering it.

“Hey!” Rusty shouted, mouth full of sandwich.

“Hello?” he answered and after a moment broke out in a smile.

Rusty watched curiously.

“Hi Brock, yes, he's right here. I'm okay. No. Yes. I guess so.” Dean continued and Rusty grew impatient only hearing the one side of the conversation. Why the hell was he calling? And why now?

“Give me the phone, Dean!” Rusty chided his son.

Dean looked concerned. “Uh... Pop wants to talk to you. Okay, bye Brock.”

Snatching the phone from the boy, he rolled his eyes. “What do you want?”

“That's rude.” Brock replied on the other end.

Rusty sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Yes, well, why are you calling? You're interrupting our lunch.”

Dean busied himself with his salad but kept an interested ear out for the conversation and strained to hear Brock's responses through the receiver.

“I hear that you have some big meetings coming up with the company.”

“Oh, and how did you hear that? Were you spying on me?”

“No... I heard it from... well, never mind who I heard it from. Look, do you need help getting things together over there?”

Rusty glanced out the cafe's window at the people walking past. He let his eyes roam past them towards the stores across the street. “Why do you care?”

“A few months ago you were gung-ho on me coming to New York. Now you don't want me to?”

Brock was puzzled at the sudden change in demeanor between them.

Shrugging to himself, Rusty started to play with his food on his plate and absentmindedly munched on some fries. “I guess I could use some help, yes. I'm just surprised. You seemed so... busy before.”

“You know this work with the O.S.I. is important. You know it keeps me busy.”

Rusty glanced at his son's face who looked both hopeful and scared at the way the conversation was going. He forced himself to relax his tone into a friendlier more conversational one. “I know, Brock. Look, I do need help. I'm... not really comfortable with all this stuff. I haven't had to run a company before. Not... like this.”

Brock smiled and it was evident in the tone of his voice. “I was thinking maybe I should take a vacation, come to New York, see the sights. Hell, I can even come with you and you can give me a tour of the company.”

“That'd be nice.” Rusty smiled into the phone.

They said their goodbyes, making plans for Brock to come in the next few weeks. Dean beamed at his father with joy.

“What are you so happy about?” he asked him, although his face matched his son's.

“Brock's coming home!” Dean said happily munching on his spinach salad again.

“Yeah, yeah... “ Rusty said, chewing on his BLT again thoughtfully.

…

There was a knock on the door and Hank answered. Rusty was busying reading over contracts at the table while Dean entertained himself with sorting the various paperwork for his father.

“Hey, what's this?” Hank asked beginning to open the package that had been delivered by the bellhop.

“Hey! Stop that!” Rusty swatted him away. “Don't you open other people's mail!”

Hank rolled his eyes and went to sit on his father's bed.

Rusty finished opening the cardboard box and peered inside curiously. Dean wandered over to look inside as well.

Rusty pulled out a dark gray hoodie in puzzlement. Emblazoned on the right side of the chest was the Venture Industries logo in dark blue and white.

He held it out so it unfolded to its full length. On the left sleeve there was another decal which appeared to be the symbol for Gargantua II. Biting his lip, Rusty tried not to tear up at the realization of what he was holding.

Dean watched his father hold the hoodie up, somberly having realized the significance of the item.

Hank stared at it in confusion for a moment before speaking up. “What is that? Some sort of sweater?”

Dean shot his twin brother a warning look of disapproval but he ignored it.

“Doesn't look very cool. Gray?” he added with disgust.

“Hank! Be quiet, would you?” Rusty snapped carefully folding the near perfect hoodie back up and placing it back in the box gently.

Peering at the shipping label, he saw the return address and recognized it had been sent by Sally. Probably some sort of gift meant to offer condolences and a way for them to commiserate in their grief together. Rusty smiled then, feeling warmer than he had before, touched at the thoughtfulness of it all.

He faced his sons and beckoned them closer to him. “Come here, boys.”

Hank lazily shuffled over from his place reclining on the bed and Dean peered at him curiously until he pulled them both into a hug. “I love you boys.”

…

It takes a while but finally, finally Rusty is able to get a grip on all the legalities of taking over a company that's been left to you as an inheritance. There were so many contracts he had to read over to sign as well as agreements and trade relations. It was enough to drive a man to drink. But, he didn't really have that luxury anymore, now did he?

Not when his sons were watching him round the clock like vultures. Speaking of which, he glanced up to see the teen boys staring at him from their spot on the couch.

Rusty quirked an eyebrow. “Yes?”

“Are you done yet?” Hank whined.

Dean just sat there looking bored.

“Yes, I believe so. I mean, I signed the paperwork Mr. Bloom sent over that he said he needed by Monday. And, I finished off the trade agreements, just have to fax that. What else is there?”

His younger son leaned forward towards the coffee table to pick up the blue folder he'd so expertly organized. “Did you look over these trade agreements though? I put them right here for you.”

Groaning in frustration, Rusty slapped a hand to his face. “Oh my god! If I look over one more piece of this damn company's paperwork, I swear to god!”

Dean looked anxious as he bit his lip. “But it's important.”

“Oh my god! Can we please just go to dinner now?!” Hank shouted, jumping to his feet. “I'm starving!”

Rusty stood as well. “Your brother's right, Dean. It's getting late. This can wait till tomorrow. It's not that important.”

“But Pop, if you don't get organized soon everything's going to fall apart! We have to get finances together so we can get out of this hotel.”

Hank pulled a face. “Look, who's the brains of this organization? You seem awfully pushy for having absolutely nothing to do with the company. What, are you trying to weasel your way into a position of authority or something?”

Dean glared up at his brother. “First of all, no I'm not, I'm just concerned with our family's status. And second, if you had any brains at all, you'd realize that just be being sole heirs of Pop, we have positions in the company.”

Rusty rolled his eyes. “Okay... if we could just stop talking like I'm already six feet under and in the ground, that'd be great. Let's just go to dinner, boys. Again, there's really no point to trying to get this all done tonight.”

He slung an arm around the brunette as he stood up. “I know you're trying to help, sweetie, but sometimes you come off as a pompous know it all. And no one likes that, okay?”

Dean pouted but nodded.

...

Brock and Rusty were sitting in the back of a taxi in an absolute deafening silence and the scientist didn't know how much more he could take. The small LED screen in front of them suddenly buzzed to life and began playing a commercial for some sort of restaurant nearby. He was thankful for the distraction.

They were on their way to the headquarters of Venture Industries for a board meeting. It wasn't the first he'd been to but since that had turned out to be a disaster, he'd convinced the former body guard to accompany him this time.

He did feel better this time around though. He was dressed to impress, in an Italian wool suit and nice, shiny, new Ferragamos. He chanced a glance at his... friend? Employee? Who was Brock now? He decided he'd just settle on the term 'family friend' for now, even though the term made him want to gag for some reason.

Brock seemed distant and distracted, his eyes staring out ahead at the road but not really present. He did notice Rusty's stare though and turned to him with a question splayed across his face.

Rusty cleared his throat nervously. “So... business meeting. Should be good to... get back in the game.”

The blonde smirked. “Think you're up for it?”

“Hey! I'll have you know, I've been doing all sorts of things for the company. You just-you haven't been here, so... you don't know.”

Brock chuckled. “Uh-huh. Well, you better be prepared to take on more responsibility. J.J. wasn't just schlubbing around, you know. He was a damn hard worker.”

Rusty rolled his eyes. “You know, I'm a hard worker too. I helped keep my dad's company afloat while he was just... just... like a fetus, ya know?”

The driver's eyes glanced back at the two of them in the rear view mirror but said nothing and continued driving.

Brock leaned back, stretching his legs a bit, feeling cooped up with the lack of leg room in the tiny cab. “You did a fine job, Doc.”

A companionable silence passed over them until they finally arrived just outside the new headquarters, a shiny, new skyscraper in the middle of Manhattan.

“You ready?” Brock asked him, peering deep into his blue eyes.

Rusty took a deep breath to settle his nerves and his suddenly racing heart. He looked back just as deeply into the man's sapphire blue eyes and nodded. “Here we go.”

…

Dean angrily shuffled through outfit after outfit, hung up in the tiny closet space he and his brother shared.

He made an irritated noise and Hank glanced up from his comic book. “Everything okay over there?”

“No! I have nothing to wear!” he grumbled.

“You want me to go with you downstairs to the laundry? I could stand to do a load or two.”

Dean sighed sliding the closet door, which doubled as a mirror, shut. “No! I just want new clothes. I have nothing. I have like three things to wear and that's it!”

Hank nodded sympathetically. Since they'd lost most of their belongings in the fire, including clothes, they'd failed to actually get around to replacing anything yet. Living in a hotel room, you didn't have much space anyway. Why clutter that up with new possessions?

The blonde stood up, feeling very motivated. “Well, why don't we?”

“What?” Dean grumbled.

“Why don't we go out and get all new clothes? It's time for a change, Dean-o. We're in a new town, living new lives. Let's act like it!”

The brunette shrugged. “I dunno... I liked my old clothes.”

“Well, your old stuff is gone! You gonna just sit here complaining or are you gonna be proactive?”

Dean bit his lip and shrugged. “How will we even pay for that?”

Hank pulled out his wallet. “I still have like $200 from Pop when he was feeling guilty the other night and basically paid me to go away. I bet if we go talk to him, play up the sad sap vibe, we could totally get more!”

Dean studied his older brother. He seemed almost gleeful at the thought of conning money out of their father. Still, the thought of finally getting some new things to wear was appealing and Pop had been rather aggravating lately. Maybe they deserved it?

...

It was that time of year again. A time when everywhere you went, the streets were adorned in red and green. Christmas decorations were everywhere, covering stores, benches, buses and strung along the various light poles that lit the neighborhoods.

Hank and Dean were making their way down the busy sidewalks, every third person or so bumping into Dean because of his inability to quickly dart out of the way. They were still getting used to the “way things were” in the city.

Hank paused at a store window and peered inside at the mannequins that were positioned in the storefront window. Dean looked over his shoulder.

“Dude, we're going in!” was the only warning he received before Hank yanked him inside the clothing store.

...

Rusty has a lot of things to be upset about but he feels like he doesn't really have the time to properly be upset about everything. Today the thing he's choosing to focus on is how they no longer have the majority of their possessions. You know, like little things, like the hand turkey drawing Hank did when he was 11 that he'd put up on the fridge for all to see.

Then of course, there was their family portrait which he'd kept on his nightstand by his bed every night since taking it all those years ago. Even when it became hard to look at each night, after Brock had left, he still kept it by his bedside. It reminded him of happier times and so he'd kept it there, refusing to put it away or exchange it for a newer family portrait. Now it was gone, destroyed in the fire like everything else.

They could take a new one, sure, but would Brock even show up? He'd probably scoff and make a statement about how he's not really family so there'd be no point in his traveling all the way out there, you know, something ridiculous like that.

They were standing outside their new building, well what would be their new building soon. The three of them stared up at the tall and massive front exterior of the complex.

Their penthouse was currently being customized to their preferences, primarily with a very late 70's look. Rusty liked to think of himself as a flexible man but his wistful longing for his destroyed home was weighing heavily on his mind and so he was inclined to decorate their new home almost identical to their old one.

Dean smiled. “Golly, this place is huge. Are we really going to live here?”

Rusty beamed at his son, proud of his accomplishment at establishing a place for them to live finally. “Yep. As soon as it's done being renovated, we'll be moving in!”

Hank pouted. “But, this is way on the other side of town. I don't want to live in the Village!!”

“You'll live where I tell you, boy.” Rusty muttered dismissively. “And besides” he beamed, turning back to Dean, “This is close enough to the University so you'll be able to start classes soon, sweetie.”

It was Dean's turn to look dour. “Oh, well, I don't know-”

“Of course you do, son! It'll be great! A Venture back in college, why I remember my-”

“Ughh! What about me? I wanted to go to barber school!” Hank interrupted.

Rusty turned to him, eyebrow raised in question. “What?”

“Barber school! It's like you don't listen to me! It's still all about Dean, isn't it?!”

“Hank, you change your mind constantly, even if I did remember all the crazy things you throw out there, it wouldn't matter, you'd just be on to the next thing next week.”

Hank crossed his arms. “I'm just passionate. I like what I like.”

The dark clouds that had been hanging overhead suddenly opened up and a heavy rain began to cascade down upon them.

“Oh! Great!” Rusty complained covering his hairless head with his trench coat.

The three of them began to run over to a nearby shop that had an overhang to protect them from the rain.

“Well, what now?” Hank complained, shivering slightly from the cold.

“I guess we'll head out to dinner somewhere.”

Dean beamed. “Ooh, can we check out that vegan place I was talking about? It's just right down the street!”

“No.” Hank and Rusty replied flatly.

Dean pouted.

...

“You should have seen it, Brock! It was so pretty!” Dean rambled as the four of them sat in the mini kitchen of the hotel room.

“I keep telling you, Dean, I have seen it. I'm the one who set up the contracts to get it built.” the blonde sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose tiredly.

“Oh... well, it was pretty. When can we move in?” the brunette asked his father who sat next to him.

Rusty quirked an eyebrow, only half paying attention to the conversation. “Huh? Oh, uh... I think they said in like two months?” He was busy scrolling through text messages from Orpheus about H.E.L.P.ER., his eyes not leaving the screen.

“I thought they said in a few weeks?” Brock said, watching the distracted scientist.

Hank brought over two large plates of cookies and then went back towards the fridge for some milk.

Rusty didn't respond, still reading the messages intently.

“Doc?” Brock prompted.

“What?” Rusty said, looking up finally. “Oh, uh... I dunno, that's just what they told me. You heard two weeks?”

Brock shrugged and eyed the plates of cookies being placed before them on the table. “I dunno, contractors are always such scam artists. Uh... Hank? I'm not really hungry.”

Hank sat down opposite next to the bodyguard. “Huh? Oh, these? These are for me.”

“All of these are for you?”

“Yeah! I'm hungry.” Hank said stuffing his face.

“Go get yourself something real to eat.”

The blonde scoffed. “This is real! This is food. What's wrong with this?”

Dean rolled his eyes and pulled out his phone to play his freemium game.

“Hank!”

“No! This is real food! These are delicious cookies. What's wrong with eating this?”

“Doc!”

Rusty didn't look up from his phone as he continued texting. “Listen to your bodyguard.”

Hank let out a long, frustrated groan and stood up to take the plates of cookies back towards the kitchen area but not before Dean snatched one of the cookies to eat for himself.

“Dean... what are ya doin'?” Brock asked exasperated.

“Um... not... eating a cookie?” Dean smiled sheepishly.

“Doc?”

“Huh?” Rusty mumbled, absorbed in his texting with Orpheus.

“Will you do something about your kids? They're hungry. Get off your damn phone! All of you! Get off your phones!” Brock said standing up in a huff.

The super scientist groaned. “Look, Orpheus keeps pestering me about the new house and I have to text him back or he won't stop. And suddenly, they're my kids?”

Brock looked across the room to Hank who was busy scarfing cookies down and trying to hide behind the small support beam wall. “Hank! For the last time, stop eating cookies!”

“Fine!” came his frustrated reply from the other room, his mouth full of cookies.

“Alright, that's it, get your coats on, we're going to dinner. Jesus.”

Dean pouted, still focused on his game. “But I need to hit level 15 before midnight or I won't get the free banana upgrade!”

Brock, Rusty and Hank all stared at him blankly before Brock continued, “I don't... I don't even wanna know what you're talking about, Dean. Just get your coat.”

…

After a long lecture about proper eating habits led by Brock, the four of them were sitting down to eat at a trendy sushi joint nearby. Brock had forbid anyone to use their phones insistent that they all have a real conversation.

“Alright, so what did you want to talk about then?” Rusty complained.

Brock rolled his eyes. “Look, I'm only in town for a little bit, okay? Then I have to go back. Until then, I just want to make sure everything's okay here with you guys. Like the penthouse.”

“What about it?”

“You don't even know when it's going to be ready or when you can move in.”

Rusty shrugged. “Like in a few weeks.”

Brock scoffed. “Earlier, you said two months.”

“Yeah, well, maybe I was wrong. I don't know, I should... I should get someone to keep track of all this.”

Dean raised his hand. “I'll do it.”

“No, Dean, no you need to focus on your studies.” the former bodyguard lectured.

“He doesn't need to study that hard. I mean, jesus, with all the money we have, it's not like they're going to flunk him.” Rusty smirked.

Hank glanced at his twin with a look of confusion playing on his face.

Dean bit his lip. “Um, actually? I don't really want to go to-”

“For crying out loud, Doc! Is that how you want to play this whole company thing? Just like your father?!” Brock said exasperated.

“Oh, right, because I'm the bad parent, wanting his son to succeed in college!”

“Yes, you are because you don't want him to actually work hard, you just want him to be given everything like a spoiled brat!”

And with that Brock stood up and stormed out of the restaurant. The three of them stared on incredulously until Rusty too jumped to his feet and followed the man out. Hank and Dean just stared at each other and shrugged.

…

Outside on the street, the two were continuing their conversation.

“I can't believe you're back here lecturing me about proper parenting! I mean, really? The nerve!”

“What is it gonna take to make you forgive me? Seriously! I need to know because unless we move past this, Doc... “ Brock said, a fervent look in his eyes as he trailed off.

Rusty just stared at him stubbornly crossing his arms across his chest.

“I don't know what we're gonna do.” Brock finished, shrugging.

A few cars passed by them down the still slick and wet street from the thunderstorm earlier. A woman jogged by in full workout attire. Rusty sighed and pinched at the bridge of his nose.

“Look... I... I don't know what to say, Brock. I want to forgive you but... I just don't know what we're doing here.”

The blonde looked him dead in the eye and stepped closer to him. “We're talking about the future here. A new future.”

Rusty blinked a few times, realizing his eyes were getting watery and he suddenly felt very foolish, standing here in the middle of the borough, on this street corner with his former bodyguard and he was crying? Pull it together, Rust.

Brock grabbed a hold of both of his shoulders tightly as he stepped even closer. “Just... think about it. Just consider forgiving me, okay? I'll let you... let you have some time. I gotta go, alright?”

And with that he released him and turned to walk away, leaving the scientist befuddled and alone.

The rain began again and he began to wonder if he were in some sort of sappy romantic comedy, only this one wouldn't have a happy ending.

…

Brock had only planned to stay a few days anyway so when he had announced via video call the next morning that he was currently boarding a jet, it came as no surprise to Rusty. The man never was any good at sticking around, following through, though who was in this day and age?

Life returned to semi-normality with his meetings and engagements with the new company. They were gearing up for the big transition from their hotel to the penthouse once it was ready and Dean was even having meetings with counselors at NYU. Hank was... also getting his life together. He had applied for a pizza delivery position and was still waiting to hear back but Rusty was sure he'd be employed by the end of the week.

Things were really starting to turn around, at least on the outside of it all. He bit his lip as he let his mind drift to the pills he had hidden earlier in the month. He didn't want to admit he was the weak willed failure everyone had thought him to be. He didn't want anyone to know how strong the addiction had a hold of him. It was embarrassing really to be a grown man so attached to something so pitiful.

Still, there was the off chance that he might actually kick the habit. He had been gaining ground. All he had to do now was stay away from it. Step one would be tossing the pills down the drain but he could never be that brave. And so he sat, perched on the edge of his bed just thinking, unable to move or act.

...

A few days later, Rusty felt a little better about the whole responsibility thing. He was even getting good at delegating tasks and making executive decisions, although the board still retained most of the power and decisions of the company. Still, he felt a great deal of pride with taking over the company and not immediately destroying it like he did with everything else in his life.

Currently, he was dealing with his former arch nemesis. They sat on a bench somewhere in the middle of Central Park. Several people walked by, some with dogs, some with cameras snapping photos.

Rusty was trying to ignore the costumed idiot as he blathered on about something and continued staring straight forward.

Monarch sighed. “I think you need to get some help.”

“Oh, what do you know?”

“Fine. You wanna be a dick? Be a dick. Be all alone. Good luck with your life.” the Monarch muttered standing up and beginning to leave.

“Wait!” Rusty called out jumping to his feet as well.

Monarch turned back towards him.

“You're right. I do need some help. I have a company to run. And, I have to get back to that. It's my responsibility now.” he sighed staring at his shoes.

“So far, all I've seen you do is drink heavily and wallow in your own pitiful despair.”

“Hey! What do you know? What? Have you been spying on me?!” Rusty glared at the taller man.

He shrugged. “I live like right over there in Jersey now. Where have you been? So yeah, I've been keeping an eye on you.”

“Well do me a favor and leave me the hell alone!”

The Monarch smirked. “I'll be keeping my eye on you. Don't think I'm not.”

And with that, the maniac left, leaving Rusty standing alone in the park. People had begun to move on and away from the area. A chilly wind blew through the air causing him to shiver and pull his coat closer to him. He sighed. Some things really never changed.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has not been beta-d! It was also rushed to get out before the premiere of season 6. If you find any errors, please please please let me know! 
> 
> ...
> 
> "Though I'm past one hundred thousand miles  
> I'm feeling very still  
> And I think my spaceship knows which way to go  
> Tell my wife I love her very much (she knows)  
> Ground Control to Major Tom  
> Your circuit's dead, there's something wrong  
> Can you hear me, Major Tom?  
> Can you hear me, Major Tom?  
> Can you hear me, Major Tom?  
> Can you "Here am I floating round my tin can  
> Far above the Moon  
> Planet Earth is blue  
> And there's nothing I can do." --David Bowie's Space Oddity

Life continued on once more, as it always does, only now Rusty felt like he was living someone else's life. His days were filled with meetings at the company and his nights were spent trying to relax in hot baths so as to try not to think about how he used to unwind after a long day.

The day comes when they finally get their fully furnished apartment and move out of the hotel albeit without Brock's presence, a step Rusty had not been willing to take yet because it meant being successful and responsible and he just wanted to drink and live in a hotel like a (stupidly rich) hobo. What was so wrong with that?' he thought placing cucumber slices over his eyes as he sank deeper into the tub and trying to turn his brain off.

H.E.L.P.ER. has joined them, coming back into their lives like a long estranged family member. Rusty lets his mind drift to Orpheus and how he'd been taking care of the longtime friend. The hotel suite had been no place for him sadly, but now that they had their home set up, he had moved in. He'd missed his little robot friend and it struck him suddenly that he had known the robot for the better part of his life, going back to his pre-college days and that warmed his heart.

They finally get their penthouse finished and move in and of course it's a thing with Hank complaining the whole time. That boy, for all his worldliness, is still very much a child, Rusty reminds himself. Dean is happy they have a proper home finally although he can still be found to stubbornly insist they go back home to Colorado Springs. It's becoming less and less often now though. 

Hank loves the city. He goes around claiming he is a 'New York socialite' and Rusty and Dean just roll their eyes. The scientist gives the boys full run of their own rooms when it comes to decorating and furniture and the like. Just like at the compound, when the two insisted they be allowed separate rooms, he lets them be in complete control of it. Personally, Rusty finds their choices all a little harsh on the eyes but they're his boys so whatever they want, they get.

After all, he wants his sons to be as comfortable as possible in their new home. Although he soon realizes this may have been a mistake as he finally catches sight of what Hank has done to his room. Rusty seems taken back and can't help but comment on it saying it looks like euro trash to which Hank just replies a warm, 'thank you', clearly not picking up on the insult.

The only thing missing from the whole set up is, well, Brock. Rusty had hoped he'd be able to be there for the move in or at least to help them decorate and get settled in. He'd given him some excuse, another excuse just like all the ones before, about being busy with the mission.

Sometimes he wondered if he were just humoring him with all that mission talk. Perhaps, he really had no interest in them anymore and had found a new life now, complete with new people in it. And that kind of thinking was usually what made the super scientist elect to try to forget his worries with a tiny white pill.

Thankfully now, however, he could just distract himself with his sons various interests and concerns. 

...

“Pop sure seems to be spending a lot of time with the Monarch. Should we be worried?” Dean asks one morning while pouring a glass of OJ.

Hank seems distracted, engulfed by his vPhone. Probably playing that freemium game again, Dean thinks.

After a second or two however, his eyes dart up at his twin brother. “I dunno, he's not really that scary. I mean, he's never really done anything to even be considered a villain.”

“Um... did you forget his kidnapping Pop, forcing us to leave the compound, Hank? I had to live with Uncle Colonel.”

H.E.L.P.ER rolled into the room and began beeping at the two of them.

Hank laughed, “Yeah, totally. See? H.E.L.P.ER is on my side.”

…

Rusty shrugged, sipping at his coffee. “I've always just gotten Hatred to do it. I can't be bothered. I'm much too busy.”

“Oh, right, you're too busy. You smug bastard! It's laundry! It takes like, what? An hour, maybe?”

The super scientist glared at him over his mug. “Oh yeah, right, like you do the laundry? No way, you make one of your weird helpers do it.”

The Monarch sat forward, gripping harshly at the edge of the small table.

What was he doing? Suddenly feeling very surreal, the scientist glanced around at his surroundings. They were in upper Manhattan, having brunch together and discussing... laundry habits?

“Look, enough chitchat. What are you doing here?” Rusty griped, feeling angry at the absurdity of it all.

“I told you... I'm here to make a sort of... treaty.” he sipped at his coffee once more, eyeing the man over the rim of the cup.

Rusty scoffed. “Yeah, right. What do you really want? My blood? My DNA? To rip me off now that I have a brand new fortune?!”

The Monarch laughed. “Please. I have just as much money as you, you idiot. How do you think I've been able to continuously antagonize and chase you all these years?”

“I dunno, you're a super villain. Don't you just rip off banks?”

“Oh god, you're so predictable and boring. What's it like to have no imagination or creativity?”

Rusty downed his coffee in one go and began pulling on his trench coat to leave. “That's it. I'm outta here, crazy.”

The Monarch stood as well. “No! Wait! Don't go! I'm sorry, okay? Look, let's just get some more cranberry scones and coffee and we can talk.”

“You're an insane man in a butterfly costume who has been terrorizing me nearly all my life! Why would I want to have brunch with you?!”

The waitress approached them then, a sheepish smile on her face. “Just... take care of this whenever. No rush.”

Rusty glanced around at the scene they were making outside the cafe. People gawked at them as they walked down the street trying to decide where to eat on the bright sunny day. Another table behind them a little further down the sidewalk began whispering about them so Rusty sat down and ripped his coat off. The Monarch satisfied with this sat down as well and grabbed another scone.

“So... you were saying something about... fabric softener?” Rusty muttered.

“I can't believe you don't do your own laundry.”

…

When Brock finally comes around again he's angry, really angry. And Rusty can't really blame him, except that he can and he does.

“Look, what do you care if he's been hanging around?”

“I care because the guy is a threat to the boys and to you, to my... family.”

Brock looks off in the distance like he wants to say something else but instead just stands there angry and restless.

The scientist pinches the bridge of his nose just beneath his glasses and exhales hard out of his nostrils. “Brock, the guy isn't a threat. He's been clipped. We've been over this!”

After hanging out and spending so much time with the costumed menace, he finally came out and spilled the beans about his marriage troubles. He and his wife had split up due to The Guild mostly and the fact that now he simply doesn't trust her or her motives. Rusty just takes solace in the fact that he has someone to spend time with, not that he's lacking for company but that's just family and somehow it's different. It's different when it's a guy who you've known for most of your life who for whatever creepy reason knows more about your life than you do and reminds you of little things and details here and there. It's refreshing. And maybe, just maybe, in exploring this new relationship he can begin to finally get over his vices. 

Rusty tries to explain all of this to the muscular man before him but it ends up coming out less eloquent and more angry and accusing.

Brock counters, “My ass, he's not a threat! I was there you know, that night you got kidnapped by The Monarch! I was in the club and I know what happened!”

The statement is thrown out so quickly that it takes the older man a few seconds to recover. “Excuse me?”

The blonde sighs and turns away from him again, taking a few steps away and angrily shoving his hands in his jean pockets. The cool night air is really beginning to wear on them and Rusty brings his arms up to cross them over his chest.

“What do you mean you were there? You saw me? Get... what, get strung up on that wheel thing? And you didn't do anything?!”

“Look, I was under cover... I tried to help but I-”

“Oh, nice! Wow, thanks a lot! You know, it's nice to know when I'm in danger, I can really count on you to save my ass!”

The wind began to pick up again almost as if to punctuate the heightening of their conversation. 

Brock stepped closer to him once more. “Doc, I tried to help you! I'm telling you... I didn't know The Monarch was going to take you. Look, it doesn't matter what happened that night because everything worked out fine. But, you gotta realize, Doc, that you can't be hanging out with the guy like everything is all hunky-dory.”

“Look, I... I gotta go, Doc. I've got some things I need to sort out.”

“How long will you be gone this time?”

Brock shrugs. “I don't know, but I promise, I'll be back.”

Suddenly Brock is gone again and it's really becoming a very sick recurring joke at this point in this story of abandonment and reconnection with a side more of abandonment. Rusty feels he can't bare to think about it anymore less he jump off the ledge of the penthouse.

...

It's late and they shouldn't be here but really, you only live once, right?

Rusty feels himself begin to slink down in his seat at their booth, eyes hazy as he glances across the table at his former arch-enemy.

“See? Wasn't this a great idea?” The Monarch slurs, raising a beer in the air.

Rusty thinks he nods but really just sort of jerks his head slightly up and to the right before letting his eyes drift across the tiny bar.

His mind is blank, well almost, he's thinking about the song playing from the jukebox across the room and where he's heard it before. 

The Monarch and him are still hanging out a lot despite a certain someone's wishes and now are even drinking to get drunk. He seems to hazily recall it was The Monarch's suggestion to get him off the pills. 

“One vice traded for another!” he announces sloppily, raising his martini glass in the air. 'When did he get that?' Rusty wonders, 'Didn't he just have a beer?' 

The bartender glances at them suspiciously from the bar but says nothing. He begins to notice that the bar is clearing out fast. Checking his communicator watch he can see that it's 1:52am. Deciding they better leave too, he begins to stand up with much difficulty. Suddenly the room is spinning and he feels like he might go down but then hands are there to hold him up with a light chuckle. The two of them stumble all the way towards the exit sign. At least he hopes it's the exit. He can barely see and the room is swimming again but still he feels a warmth in his chest and it's too pleasant to think of anything dreary anymore.

He forgets why they went out in the first place. And he forgets the man that made him feel so down he felt the need to drink. And he forgets.

…

Rusty wakes up next to The Monarch with the implication that they had sex although to be honest he can remember nothing from the night before. Everything's a blur and when he tries to glance around the room to quickly he gets a bit nauseous. After a moment or two of awkwardness The Monarch shrugs, announcing that he can't remember anything either. 

They're mostly naked, beneath the sheets of his huge bed although thankfully they both have their boxers still on. Rusty tries to piece together what may have led them to this event but ends up just holding his head in his hands to try to keep the massive headache that's forming at bay.

They shuffle around a bit finding articles of clothing before the costumed man shrugs again saying that he has to head back to Jersey. He mostly seems unaffected by this recent turn of events, seeming to not care if they did or did not end up having sex. He must be a heavier drinker than he had first thought. Rusty tries to offer a lighthearted joke to lighten the mood but it falls flat. 

They end up staring at each other for a moment uncomfortably before the overgrown butterfly just leaves. What a life.

…

Having made his way out of the bedroom, he began to panic at the thought of his two sons being around for the previous night's... festivities. The morning's sun seemed to be trying to punch him in the face, dancing throughout their living room. This new home of theirs wasn't the most forgiving first thing in the morning. Oh wait... except it's 1pm.

Well then, that definitely means his sons are not at home. He hopes that means Dean is hard at work studying and not somewhere goofing off. But a second later he has to laugh at the mere thought. Of course Dean is at the University. He's not a... a Hank.

“Alright” he says, standing up. “If I'm going to attempt to figure out what happened last night I'm going to need coffee.” 

So he stands up and stumbles his way over towards the kitchen and starts to clumsily make coffee. He's so busy dealing with his massive headache that he doesn't even hear the door behind him. 

Hank walks up to his father and immediately is assaulted by the smell of alcohol he reaches down and gently pats at his shoulder. 

“What the?!” Rusty shouts, spinning around. “Hank! Don't sneak upon your father!”

“I was coming over to see if you wanted to go to lunch with me and Dean.” he says beaming happily.

“Okay fine... “ he says resting against the counter by leaning on it, his head in his two hands. “Let me just... let me just wake up.”

Rusty stands back up but immediately closes his eyes at the disaster of a morning this was turning out to be. Trying to cook breakfast when hungover is never wise.

Hank busies himself with his vPhone trying to text his twin brother while his father opens the fridge. Inside he finds two containers of sushi, way too many bottles of wine and for some reason one of his Italian dress shoes. Just the one. 

Closing the door he shakes his head a little to clear his mind and instantly regrets it. The room begins to spin a little bit and he anxiously looks at the coffeemaker.

“God I need some coffee.”

...

“You were trying to forget about Brock, weren't you?” Billy asks through the phone, lisp apparent as ever.

Rusty rolls his eyes as he begins to sip at his cup of coffee. “That's ridiculous, Billy! You're always trying to psychoanalyze me. Just give it a rest, will ya?!”

He and his son are waiting on his other son to join them at the cafe just down the street. Billy, for whatever reason, had chosen this particular day to call him up and ask him how his work is going, which is just code for, 'are you off your rocker again or what?'

There's a pause and some conversation on the other side of the line. Rusty raises a brow trying to discern the discussion when Billy suddenly comes back on. “See? White agrees with me. He thinks you've got it bad. His words.”

“What's that? Oh no, the connection's bad, I-” Rusty says faking a bad signal and hanging up.

Hank cocks an eyebrow at his father but says nothing.

Rusty sighs into his hot mug, happy to have some caffeine rushing through his veins. “Ah... that's better.”

...

Rusty begins having weekly meetings and conference calls with people in the company, finding himself way busier than he originally thought he would be but somehow it's a good thing. He's happy for the success and for the distractions really.

He still manages to find time to spend with the boys, even if he's dead tired at the end of the day. And yet, he still manages to find time for some good ol' fashioned bullying of his friends.

Wednesday, January 20th, 2016  
10:06 PM Mister Venture: Hey Orpheus… tired of living with that alchemist guy yet?

Thursday, January 21st, 2016  
11:32 AM Orpheus: i don’t like this thing and i don’t know why you insist on contacting me on it. none the less if you must communicate this way with me i implore you to call me  
11:34 AM Mister Venture: Jesus Orpheus, what are you seventy? Learn how to use the thing. And why does it always take you a day to respond to me??

Of course, it helps if they actually get your messages.

…

“Do you believe in love at first site?” His arch enemy asks one night as they walk down the street, him watching his feet walk one in front of the other.

It was almost midnight and most people actually had already cleared out of the neighborhood and inside to their homes. Most being the key word, as it was true and the city never sleeps. Rusty stopped walking and looked at him. “Why are you asking me that?” 

“That's how it was for me and Dr. My Wife. I think it's real, the whole love at first sight thing.”

The streetlights overhead flickered and the scientist suddenly felt like he couldn't breathe. 

“Everybody has somebody that makes them happy, you know? Do you?”

Rusty sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose under his glasses and sat down on a nearby bench. 

“Promise me something?” The Monarch asks him suddenly, staring out into the darkness.

“Hmm?” 

“Promise that we put an end to all this fighting, once and for all. I mean it. No more secrets, no more arching.”

The Monarch turns to him and stares imploringly deep into his eyes. Rusty meets his gaze steadily. “Yeah, alright.”

“Pinky promise?” he asks the shorter man, holding out his pinky finger.

Rusty smiled, holding up his own pinky and locking it with the Monarch's. “Pinky promise.”

There's a slight pause and then The Monarch has stood up from their place on the bench and began walking a few paces away.

“We're getting back together, the Mrs. and I.” he continues and Rusty stands up to follow him.

“Really? Wow.” 

“Yeah... it turns out, I... I was imagining the whole Guild thing. I... guess I kind of overreact sometimes.” he said shrugging sheepishly.

Rusty smirked. “Yeah, I've noticed. So... there really is no Guild anymore?”

“Oh no, there is and she's working for them still. But... we've made amends and resolved our differences amicably. So, I'll be heading back home soon. There's a lot of clean up needed at the house. Plus... we don't have any henchman anymore so I've really gotta get back on that.”

“Oh... right. Well, I guess you have... things to attend to. Wait, does that mean you won't be arching me anymore?” 

The Monarch smiled. “Well, I haven't really been arching you for a while. But yes, I'm sure the Mrs. has us set up for someone new. But don't worry, we'll always have New York.” he said wistfully and before Rusty knows it he's gone, hailing a cab and climbing inside.

Rusty watches them go, feeling very surreal about the events of the last few hours. He feels an itch in his brain reminding him of something but he ignores it and stubbornly begins to walk back towards the penthouse.

Riding the elevator to the very top of the building, he tries to keep his mind clear and distract himself with the shiny reflection of himself that appears in the golden doors. When they whoosh open, he quickly steps out into his living room area, searching for his sons.

When it becomes apparent that Rusty is alone for the first time in what seems like forever, he can no longer ignore the itch in his brain. He finds himself walking without realizing it and soon he is at the end of the hall, in his bedroom doorway. His eyes stray towards the secret bottle of pills he's hidden perched just behind the nightstand and the wall it's pushed up against, hidden in almost plain sight.

He thinks about the old, familiar orange prescription bottle which he'd been so careful to conceal and all the guilt he'd felt about it. Its' strategic placement had allowed him to keep it a secret from the boys. 

It's killing him, the fact that he'd been so weak and hung on to them selfishly. He hadn't taken a single one in months. He wasn't that stupid. He just felt better having them around.

What would Hank and Dean think about him going back on his promises? What would... he stops himself from finishing the thought. He doesn't want to think about that man right now.

Suddenly, Rusty hears the sound of vibrations floating up towards his ear drums and as he glances down towards his vPhone he sees a phone number calling him that he doesn't recognize. Deciding to take a chance, he gingerly lifted the phone up to his ear and hit the answer key.

“Hello?”

After only a second's hesitation, a deep, gruff voice responds. “Doc?”

Three things happen, all at once. Rusty stops breathing, or at least, appears to. The room then begins to grow darker as his eyes do a sort of tunnel vision thing. And finally, his mouth begins to feel like an ashtray as he struggles to bring about a sentence to the tip of his tongue. Finally, he breaks free of his momentarily silence and works his mouth to form words again.

“Uh... hey, Brock.” 

Lame. You sound lame, his mind screams at him. Say something clever! But, Brock is already talking again.

“Doc... how are you?” he sounds hesitant and distant even and that's disappointing.

It's been a few months, shouldn't he be over the whole resentment thing about his pill popping again? After all, it was a momentary setback for him. He's doing better now... right?

Rusty sits up straighter, tries to sound chipper than he actually is. “I'm... doing great, actually. Really great. What about you? How are you?”

He sounds like he's over doing it but if Brock notices then he doesn't care and moves forward with the conversation. “I've been better. Been trying to get some time off, some time to... you know, relax. But, it's been hard.”

“I bet.” Rusty says and tries not to sound as petty as he knows he is sounding.

Brock glanced out the window of the skyscraper he was currently standing on the 30th floor of a nearby hotel. Watching the night sky, he idly shifts his weight from one foot to the other. On the street below, several taxis and other cars zoom by each other, the normal traffic on a Tuesday night in New York City.

He continues, “So... I've also been thinking of... retirement.”

The silence in the air after that statement just buzzes with anxiety and Rusty has to once again remember how to speak. “Re-retirement? What? Really??”

Brock smiles for the first time in a long time. He tries to keep it out of his voice and fails. He idly kicks at the carpeting bunching near the floor with his sneaker. “Yeah... it's... it's about time, I think. I've been at this game for a long, long time. I dunno... it's just time.”

Rusty's mouth falls agape and he closes it only to have it fall open again. He shifts to stand from his seat on the white couch and make his way over towards the expanse of the floor to ceiling windowsill. “When... when were you thinking?”

The response he gets is coy. “Oh... how about tonight?”

“Tonight?” Rusty echoes as he stands staring up at the same night sky.

“Yeah... I'm in the city. Where are you?”

Shrugging in an incredulous manner he replies, “At-at-at home. Where else? You're in New York?”

“Yup.”

Another moment of silence but this time it's less awkward and more content.

“Do you wanna get together... have a cup of coffee?” he asks fearing the response and yet he asks anyway, hope battling it out over his fear of being rejected for the millionth time.

Brock grinned to himself. “I was hoping you'd ask.”

…

Hank and Dean were having a 'night in' as it were. H.E.L.P.ER. was nearby, currently busy in sweeping and cleaning the kitchen area. After hearing the news that Brock and their father were meeting up again they'd really wanted to join in but were quickly shunned by each of the men. They were told they needed time alone to conduct various business matters but Hank knew what they were really up to even if Dean was too naive and was inclined to believe their lies.

The blonde boy sinks lower down into the cushy couch and begins flipping channels. Dean sits next to him, tossing the various throw pillows out of the way and onto the floor.

“So what do you feel like, Dean-o? Horror flick?”

“Oh god, can we not?” Dean said rolling his eyes and making himself comfortable on the couch.

“You're such a baby.”

“You're the baby!”

Hank smirked, finding a particularly scary movie on that involved a mixture of monsters and hell. “Oh yeah? Watch this!”

Dean covered his eyes and kicked futilely at his twin brother to get him to change it.

“Ughhh! Fine! Here, you put something on.” he complained shoving the remote in Dean's direction.

Dean smiled triumphantly and began searching for something to watch.

…

“Hey, remember when you were afraid we were going to lose the compound because of all the taxes?” Brock says in between pushing two peas around on his plate with his fork.

The two white candle pillars on the table between them are caught in a sudden breeze, flickering the candlelight. Rusty pauses in his effort of twirling his spaghetti around his fork and glances up at the man with a smile. “I do. I do remember that. I remember how I didn't know where we were going to go or what we were going to do.”

Brock laughs dabbing at his mouth with the black cloth napkin and sipping at the wine they'd purchased. “And you really thought the military was going to just sign on for some more commissions? I mean, come on, Doc, all of that stuff was ancient!”

The super scientist shrugged, a small smile playing at his face. “Well, you know, I had to do something. It was my last shot. At least now, we'll never have to worry about money again.”

“You can say that again.”

A waiter passed by their table offering refills of their waters but both men waived him off. The setting on the rooftop of the restaurant was quaint with not many people dining that night. They probably thought it was too cold.

The wind was starting to pick up a little. Rusty shivered a bit at the temperature change and Brock immediately stood up to place his jacket around him.

“Brock... you don't have to-” Rusty began but was cut off by the younger man.

“You'll catch a cold.” he muttered sitting back down opposite him.

Another waiter approached their table, this time an older gentleman with salt and peppered hair. He set down their check before wandering off toward one of the other customer's tables.

Rusty picked at his spaghetti, his eyes trained on his plate.

“Something wrong, Doc?”

He returned his gaze to the man across the table from him again, a sudden melancholy feeling taking over him. “No... no, it's nothing. It's just... I don't want things to change now.”

Brock arched an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

“I mean... I mean with the money, Brock. I mean, I'm glad we have it now, I just... I don't know if the city is good for the boys.”

The blonde shrugged off the statement and ate the last few peas on his plate. “They'll be fine, Doc. Don't worry about them. The only thing you should be worried about is you... making sure you don't blow this money.”

The look that Rusty shot him was missed by the man entirely, but it was one mixed with part shock and part outrage.

…

Hank had changed position, moving to lay down on the couch itself, letting his head rest on the armrest and bringing his legs to rest, bent at the knee.

Dean was enthralled with the vampire television show before them but Hank... Hank was bored. It wasn't even the good kind of vampire story. These vampires were all conventionally attractive and going to high school. He pulled out his phone to continue playing “Pop It All”.

The brunette glanced at his brother out of the side of his eye. “I thought Pop told you not to play that anymore.”

“I wasn't!” Hank protested, still tapping away at his screen.

“I can hear the sounds of the game, Hank.”

“Oh, whatever.”

“Also, didn't Brock tell you to delete it off your phone?”

A commercial had finally come on and Dean turned his full attention to his brother, glancing at him over the boy's knees. Hank moved to sit up fully and put away his vPhone.

“Well yeah, but I don't think they get it. It's not a waste of time. It's really fun!”

Dean arched an eyebrow. “I don't think that's the reason they want you to stop playing it. I thought it was because you stole Pop's credit card to pay for the lily pads.”

“Psh. That's ridiculous! Everyone knows the lily pads are free as long as you make sure to buy the Jumbo Upgrade in level 4. No, it's the lotus flowers they make you pay for.”

…

It's late, they're in the middle of the city... somewhere, just walking about aimlessly. Okay, so, he stormed out of the restaurant and therefore now they are walking about aimlessly, well sort of. Brock is chasing him as he is trying to half jog half walk away quickly.

“Wait a minute! I have more to say!” Brock yells and this time a few of the passersby do stop and stare but only for a moment before they are off again and on their way.

Rusty stops and turns, blinking a few times in confusion as he continues, “I never said I didn't love you. I never... you didn't even... you didn't give me a chance-”

“Oh, I? I didn't give you a chance?! You left, Brock! You left!”

They're screaming at each other now in the middle of the street and he can't help but feel embarrassed even though he knows this is certainly not an uncommon occurrence in this city.

“I won’t apologize… I don’t regret what I did.” 

The words coming out of Brock's mouth sound ugly to him and he has to look away from the larger man and out towards the distant street corner. He feels like he's being blinded by anger and so he takes a few deep breaths.

But Brock continues on, “I mean it. We both needed time away from one another. We had... things to work out.”

“You had things to work out! I was fine!” Rusty interrupted glaring at him again. “My life was worked out.”

They move to a more secure location deciding to really take the time to talk things out. Making their way back to the Penthouse, for a little more privacy they bypass going back upstairs and instead head to the rooftop. Brock, having amazing foresight and planning had set up a table complete with lights and decorations. 

It's amazing to him, that this rough and tough bodyguard could sometimes surprise you and accomplish something so amazingly touching. Although, it shouldn't really anymore, he's always known what softie the guy is.

They have drinks on the rooftop, Brock with his normal scotch on the rocks and Rusty opting for a light glass of Riesling to keep himself in check. No need to go off the deep end.

Being here, in this lighting, on this night in New York City, so close to the glittering light of the nearby skyscrapers, it's enough to mellow them out to where they almost completely forget they were fighting in the first place.

“Kinda reminds me of when we were in New York for your dad's, uh, alien thing.” Brock says, downing his drink in one gulp and heading to the small bar he'd set up for another one.

Rusty smiled at him, sipping at his wine. “Right. God... chasing those pieces all over the place, that was... something.”

“What about the time you had that uh... that death ray thing?”

“It wasn't! It wasn't a death ray! Jesus! What kind of a guy do you think I am? Wait... don't answer that. It was an Ooo-Ray, thank you very much!”

“Yeah, well, whatever it was, it wasn't successful but at least we had a good time. We used to come to New York quite a bit. It's nice to be back.”

“Except now we don't have to worry about the boys getting kidnapped.”

“They've grown up. I'm proud of them.” Brock mumbled, a slight slurring of his words beginning to kick in and Rusty realized the man had drank quite a bit tonight. First at the restaurant and now here, on this rooftop, in the middle of this thoughtful and planned out setting for their night.

He found himself gazing at the man as he leaned against the wall lazily. Brock blinked at him, suddenly feeling his stare upon him. “What?”

“This was nice. Really nice. You planned all this?” Rusty asked gesturing with his glass.

The younger man shrugged and took a few steps towards him, downing his second glass of scotch. He paused at their pop up mini bar and began making another. “It seemed necessary given this brand new building and the penthouse being built here and all. We gotta break it in.”

He gave him a lopsided grin, really showing the affect the booze was having on him and Rusty found himself matching it immediately. He stood up, stepping close to the taller man, a little too close it might seem and offered his empty wine glass. “Well, fill her up.”

…

Hank and Dean having long since fell asleep in front of the noisy TV, H.E.L.P.ER gingerly picked each of them up and carried them off to their respective beds. He tucked them each in and placed a nonexistent kiss on their foreheads. Rolling back out into the hall, he cracked their bedroom doors just a smidgen and left the hall light on before moving back towards the living room.

The area had been left a mess by the twins and so he began picking up the various trash and food cartons. Just a normal day.

…

Brock was going on about the way a pregnant dog looked when it realized it was going to be safe finally, having been rescued by Shore Leave on one of their recent missions. The stray had even given birth to six puppies while living in their underground headquarters, loved and cared for by the members of O.S.I. Brock had named one of the fuzzy ones Hank because of the energetic and giddy way it kept trying to run before being able to even walk.

Rusty sipped at his glass of wine, mesmerized by the conversation of the man as they talked more and more, really opening up as the drinks kept pouring. Brock told him of their recent mission to Capuld, even though it was classified, seeming to feel it was safe to do so since one, the mission was over and two, he'd had quite a lot to drink.

When he began to tell of his own mother however, Rusty nearly dropped the glass he had been holding, barely recovering almost knocking it off the table they sat at. Brock glanced down at the white tablecloth of the miniature table, suddenly solemn and quiet.

“Have you... have you been back to see her?”

“No.” Brock muttered, eyes looking past him and to the distance now.

Rusty felt privileged to be told this information by the man, knowing that most of Brock's private life was classified information, especially his past prior to joining O.S.I. He'd never been privy to any of it, even after all the years of their living together. He felt a sort of comfort by the sudden rush of new information he was receiving from the man.

Rusty leaned forward and placed his hand on the younger man's tanned one. Brock glanced up, meeting his eyes and he could see a pain there, barely even being masked anymore.

“Is it possible to go and see her? I mean... if you are... serious about retiring, that is.”

Brock let the thought roll around in his mind for a moment before he smiled ruefully. “It's been too long. She's probably... moved on. I don't want to open up a can of worms for her that honestly, she doesn't need.”

Rusty nodded, squeezing the man's hands in his own. Brock's expression changed. He looked up at Rusty again, dumbfounded. “I... probably shouldn't have told you any of that, Doc.”

He moved to sit back against his chair, removing his hands from the scientists' and rubbing at his face tiredly.

“Well... I appreciate your honesty. I won't tell anyone, of course. Who do I have to tell anyway? The only people I have are... the boys and... you.”

Brock opened his eyes again to see the older man swishing the wine around in his glass before downing it. He let his eyes roam over the sight of him, barely sitting up straight, his suit a bit wrinkled from the long day of work plus their night out. He had bags under his eyes but other than that looked to be in remarkably good health for the first time in years.

“You're not alone, Doc.” he found himself saying before his brain could catch up to the words. “You do have us. You have... me. I was serious before when I said I want to move here. I want to stay. Are you going to let me stay?”

Rusty blinked at the man and let the words sink in. He smiled warily. “I don't suppose you have references I can call?”

The joke was dumb and a little flat but Brock still grinned out of the side of his mouth, downing his scotch. 

“You know... you make me better I think. You're a pain in the ass, but it works for you. I never thought that when I got to that dorm room at State that I'd be meeting a man that I'd be intertwined to the rest of my life. Or that I'd be helping to raise his kids in the future.”

“What a career move, huh?”

Brock chuckled. “Of course, there have been a lot of ups and downs and... a lot of... weird stuff.”

“Like the time Monarch decided to drop several squids onto the compound from above because he'd heard it was some Japanese cultural way of insulting a person?”

“Or that time when Professor Impossible tried to kill himself by blowing himself up with that bomb?”

“Oh jesus, don't remind me. That was... weird.”

A companionable silence washed between them and Rusty found himself staring into the bodyguard's eyes. “So... this means you're... staying?”

“If you want me to.”

“Of course I want you to!” Rusty laughed incredulously. “I... I've always wanted you to come back. You're my... “

Brock stared, waiting for him to continue.

Rusty looked down at his empty glass. “You're... important to me, Brock. You're... everything. I never wanted you to leave. I never thought you would, that's why I was always such an asshole. I didn't mean to be, I just... I'm an asshole, you know?”

“You're not an asshole Doc... “ he sighed. “You're just... you. And that's fine. You're perfect just the way you are, far from it.”

He beamed up at him, touched by the words. “You've never been my cheerleader, Brock. I've always appreciated that.”

“Well, I'm happy to have someone in my life that doesn't kiss my ass.”

“Wow. Then we're like each other's life coaches or something.”

Brock grinned. “We've had quite a life together.”

“Raised a great family.”

“Traveled the world.”

Rusty sat forward closer to the table. “We even saved the world from that alien with my father's... whatever.”

Brock chuckled. “Yeah. Good times.”

The Swedish man let his smile relax as he continued watching the doctor. Rusty's smile lessened. “What?”

Brock leaned forward, grabbed him by the shoulders and brought his lips to the older man's. He kissed him, thoroughly and maybe a bit too roughly at first, but everything about Brock was rough. 

Rusty gripped at his shoulders once he recovered from the shock of it all, bringing him even closer. He kissed him back with every bit of passion he had for the man that he had been holding back for years. For every time that the bodyguard had stood a little too close to him in cramped quarters when they had been captured or were being held hostage. For every time that it was late and he and Brock had fallen asleep in front of the TV. For every time that the boys had died and Rusty, too full of grief to even think about what to do next and Brock had stepped in, taking control of things the best he could in order to guide the man back to sanity.

After so long, it was happening, the thing he had never considered could even become a reality, was happening. Rusty kissed him back hard, feeling the effects of the wine course through his veins as he gripped the back of Brock's neck pulling him closer.

Brock moved his hands up towards his face as he began to use his tongue against the man's own, slowly and self-assuredly.

Pulling away to catch their breath, Rusty can smell the heavy scent of whiskey on the man's breath as his eyes travel up to his sapphire eyes. His lids look heavy from either the alcohol or the late hour, he doesn't know which.

Finally, Brock breaks the silence. “Wow.”

The super scientist smiles. “Wow.”

…

Rusty hadn't known it but one night, long ago, when he was still living on the grounds of the compound while a part of S.P.H.I.N.X., Brock had paid him a visit.

Brock walked briskly across the compound. It was late and the air was chilly but he paid it no mind. Quietly he crept across the vast landscape, a mere shadow in the darkness.

Rusty was asleep, deep asleep but for once it was without any nightmares plaguing him. The former bodyguard eased open the windowsill to the older man’s bedroom and carefully tip-toed inside.

The bright, glaring red of the clock on the nightstand told him it was nearing 3:30AM. He tried to stay as silent as possible as he made his way over to the bed. Cuddled up deep beneath the blankets lay his former employer, scratch that, former friend, former… well, there weren’t really any good descriptive words for him and well… Brock decided that he liked that.

For a while he just stood there watching him breathe in and out, slowly and quietly. He let his mind wander as he watched the man sleep. He let it wander back to a time when things seemed so much simpler.

He let it wander back to a time when his life was more than just fighting all the time and having to break into databases to get classified and sensitive information.

Before anyone became the wiser, he left, silently vowing not to do it again but inside he knew he could never keep that promise to himself. He was living right next to his family and forced to keep it a secret, to stay away.

That was something he could never do.

…

Rusty bit his lip glancing away from the man shyly. “Well... now what?”

Brock smiled easily. “Well... I still have that hotel room. It's just down the block. We wouldn't even have to wake the boys.”

The implication was more than startling but he quickly found himself agreeing as they both stood to make their way down the stairs back to the street below.

…

It was morning, at least he was pretty sure. It was bright in the hotel room and his head was killing him. He tried sitting up but quickly felt a wave of nausea wave over him. He decided against it, staying laying still on his back in the comfy bed. Next to him lay Brock, sound asleep, a slight snore sounding from him.

Rusty smiled, happy with the previous night's events. Still, a little voice in the back of his head urged him to be cautious. The bodyguard may not feel the same way upon awakening.

But for now, it was nice to be able to lay in perfect, ignorant bliss. He rolled on to his side towards the man and began to slide his eyes shut to get some more rest.

After a moment or so, his phone began to ring startling the both of them fully awake with the awkward and shrill tones.

Rusty scrambled to silence it as Brock wearily sat up, rubbing his head.

“Hello?” he groaned into the phone as Brock struggled out from under the blankets pulling one of them with him to wrap around his waist.

“Oh god.” the scientist muttered into the phone, turning to face the younger man. “It's New York Presbyterian.”

Brock's brows pinched in concern.

...

He couldn't believe this was happening. Literally, couldn't believe it. 

Striding quickly through the halls of the hospital, there was the stench of medicine all around him assaulting his nose.

Rusty could feel his heartbeat pounding in his chest as he carefully and meticulously? Made his way down the corridor and over towards the nurse's station.

Once there he leaned heavily upon the drab pinkish counter top and grief stricken demanded to know where his son was. The nurse seemed to be having an off night but when she glanced up and saw his face, her expression softened. Typing away on the computer to search for the name she immediately recalled the patient and her expression softened further. 

She gestured down the hall further and explained he was in room 307, not at all surprised when Rusty took off in that direction at top speed.

Rounding the corner he finally found the room and hastily rushed in. Inside lay his youngest son, Dean, unconscious with far too many wires hooked up to him for his taste.

He swallowed audibly as he approached him, unsure what condition he was in. Was he asleep or was it much worse than he thought?

Stepping forward, he leaned over and placed a gentle hand on the boy's cheek. After a moment, frantic footsteps sounded behind him and he turned to look at who had approached. It was Brock and he was looking very distraught.

He had obviously been sprinting towards the hospital room and now seeing Rusty there standing over him, he had slowed to a standstill.

"How is he?" He asked him.

Rusty turned back to their son somberly? Brushing back the hair that was resting, laying flat against Dean's forehead he sighed. "I don't know. I just don't know! I can't believe this is happening, I just-"

He began to break down and cry and Brock rushed forward to place a gentle hand on his shoulder in comfort. Rusty's audible sobs and the beeping of the machine were all that could be heard in the tiny room.

A nurse walked in to look at the monitor quietly, not wanting to disturb their family moment. Rusty quieted down a little and Brock turned to look at the lady.

"How is he doing? Is it bad?"

The older woman smiled kindly at him as she fiddled with an IV. "He's doing just fine considering his injuries. It could have been much worse. Are you the parents?"

Rusty wiped at his eyes as Brock opened and shut his mouth like a fish. He turned finally and looked expectantly at the scientist. Rusty nodded and looked away from Dean finally.

"Yes. We... are." 

Brock pinched his brows together but said nothing.

The nurse smiled warmly again and nodded. "I'll let the doctor know you're here."

When she left the room Rusty pulled over a plastic chair from the corner to sit down next to the bed. Brock stood standing, in a sort of shock due to the surrealism of it all. 

Rusty took one of Dean's hands in his own, squeezing it gently. He let his eyes roam over his freckled face and let out a shaky sigh.

Brock glanced down at him then and let his eyes travel to Dean's peaceful face. "He's gonna be okay, Doc." He heard himself say even though he didn't really believe the words.

Doc didn't look up at him and instead squeezed Dean's hand tighter. "I can't lose him... I've already... lost too much."

Brock let his hand rest on his shoulder once more and gently squeezed. 

When their son began to stir from his sleep both leaned forward towards him. Dean blinked slowly up at the two of them before wincing in pain. “Pop... what?”

“Don't try to talk, sweetie! Are you in pain? Where is that damn nurse?!”

Rusty had launched into a flurry of emotions all at once now that the youngest Venture was awake. Brock smiled and patted his shoulder to calm him down before turning to Dean.

“How are you feeling, buddy?”

Dean smiled a bit. “Okay, I guess... a little sore. Where am I? What happened?”

“You got hit by a car is what happened! And I'll tell you what, those cab drivers are reckless in this city!” Rusty said throwing his hands up in the air.

The attending physician entered then, politely knocking on the already open door. “Hello, I'm Dr. Katz. Let me let you know what's going on.”

…

Thankfully, the whole incident was relatively minor when it came to Dean's injuries. A cracked rib and a bump on the head was what he walked away with. Brock lectured that he should be thankful that was all, immediately launching about how he shouldn't be going in the street at all, making Rusty twitch uncomfortably at the memory of the last time they'd been “playing” in the street riding their scooters down the highway at home and the unfortunate accuracy of The Monarch's henchmen with a shot.

Dean nodded along obediently as Hank leaned against a wall nearby, arms crossed as he listened intently, choosing to jump in here and there to lecture him as well until Brock sat him down on the couch to give him the same talk.

Rusty smiled at his little family and felt a sense of pride and love swell in his chest.

…

Brock chuckled at the photo in front of him. It was of Vatred, standing in front of the leaning tower of pisa, pretending to prop it up from his stance in the foreground.

“Wow. So, he's getting a little traveling in, huh?” 

Hank took the photo from the older man. “Yeah... can we not do that whole stepfather thing again?”

Brock gave him a look of confusion. “What?”

Hank shrugged. “You know what I'm talking about. Uncle Vatred? He came to live with us and be like our new dad?”

“I... don't think that's what he-”

The blonde boy interrupted him. “Yes he was! He was here to take care of us, to love us, as a replacement for you. And I... I don't want that. None of us do. So can you do us a favor? Can you just... stick around this time?”

Hank's words sounded sad and even a bit rough around the edges but when the older man looked into the boy's eyes he could see a glint of good-natured humor and warmth.

Brock reached down to ruffle his hair affectionately, unsure of what to say so he just chuckled. “Sure, kid.”

Rusty and Dean entered the room then, dressed and ready for their night out of dinner and a movie. They gathered their coats to leave one by one into the elevator.

Brock noticed Hank beaming all the way down.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This chapter ends the story and is filled with tons of happy, boring family stuff because it's what I love most about The Venture Bros. Enjoy!
> 
> Find someone who isn't afraid to admit that they miss you. Someone who knows that you're not perfect, but treats you as if you are. Someone whose biggest fear is losing you. One who gives their heart completely. Someone who says I love you and means it. Last but not least, find someone you wouldn't mind waking up with you in the morning, seeing your wrinkles and your gray hair but still falls in love with you all over again. --Unknown

Waking up to the sound of footsteps running back and forth and unmistakable sound of something shattering was nothing new to Brock. He'd been there before. Waking up next to Rusty however, was a new development, at least as of late. Sure, he'd been there before too but that was long ago. And nowadays he was beginning to grow used to it once again.

  
He felt warm, very warm as he snuggled further beneath the sheets and heavy gray comforter. Rusty made a soft noise as he rolled over on his side away from him but still scooted back up against him to maintain contact.

  
“Brock, can you make us potatoes?” a voice sounding too young to belong to a nineteen year old soon rang out from behind them.

Shifting slightly up and out of the warm cocoon of the bed, he couldn't even pretend to be mad at the request. Glancing over at the boy, Brock smiled at Hank's innocent face beaming up at him. “Sure, Hank.”

…  
  
Making his way out of the bedroom quietly so as not to disturb the scientist, Brock followed Hank down the stairs and over to the kitchen where they met Dean, already up and reading the newspaper of all things.  
  
“Ooh! And french toast?” Hank smiled, clasping his hands together in a pleading fashion.  
  
“Okay, Hank.” Brock nodded smiling.  
  
The blonde boy began to jump up and down in excitement as Brock set about getting the pans together, adding the oil and then searching for the potatoes to dice.  
  
Barely awake, he stopped his search abruptly, realizing he was going to need some coffee to wake up. After all, it was Sunday, it was his sleep in day and they'd all been up and out till 3am. Why in the hell were these kids awake at, Brock paused to glance at the clock on the coffee maker, 8:02am?!  
  
He paused, leaning heavily on the counter, hanging his head and closing his eyes. Dean glanced up from the paper and Hank stealthily moved to continue making coffee, intent on grabbing a cup when the man wasn't paying attention.

“You okay, Brock?” Dean asked, concerned.

“Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine, Dean. Just... exhausted. Why in the hell are you two awake? And how are you so damn energetic?”

Dean puts down the pages of the New York Times and shrugs. “I dunno. I'm just so used to waking up early now.”

Brock glances over at Hank and quickly snatches the coffee container from him. “I'll do that, thank you.”

“Aww...” he sulks and walks away.

Brock is just about done preparing his big breakfast for all of them when Rusty stumbles into the kitchen, still half asleep and exhausted from the night before.

“Oh, I was just about to come wake you. We got breakfast here.” Brock says over his shoulder.

“Mmgn?” the man mutters coming to a stop next to him in front of the stove.

Hank and Dean glance up from the table.

“I'm sorry? What was that?” Brock smiles.

“Coffee?” Rusty tries again.

“Oh... here.” he responds and pushes a careful mug into his hands. The man mumbles something he intends to mean 'thanks' but it sounds more like 'Mumf' instead.

The family sits down to breakfast and all seems right with the world.

…

Pushing a heavy metal cart down an aisle, Rusty was in the middle of the grocery store trying to gather ingredients for dinner. He tried to think of things the boys liked to eat. They'd pretty much been eating out constantly since moving to New York and Rusty thought it'd be good for all of them to start eating real meals once more. You know... like in the old days.

He recalled Hank and Dean being very fond of his famous mac n' cheese. Maybe he'd make that tonight. Things were finally slowing with work and he was happy for the time off.

Just as he was nearing the pasta and dry goods aisle, his vPhone rang and he fished in his coat pocket to answer it.

Speak of the devil. "Yes Hank?" He answered with a sigh.

"Aww... why do you gotta answer like that?" his son whined on the other line.

"Because you call me like 9 times a day and it's never about anything important." He griped pushing the shopping cart down the aisle one handed.

“Well, I just wanted to let you know that I'm getting a raise at work.” Hank said proudly.

Rusty stopped pushing the cart. “Really? Wow! That's great, Hank. How'd you manage that?”

“What do you mean, how'd I manage that? By being awesome! Duh!”

“Right... I forgot, you're a real wiz at delivering pizza. Like the next Oppenheimer.”

“Hey! I don't appreciate your snark. I am good at my job. And I demand your appreciation. And also, I want a dollar.”

Rusty laughed, pulling a few boxes of pasta off the shelf. “Okay, fine Hank, I'm proud of you. I am. I'm glad you're excelling at work. And getting a raise is always good. Are they giving you anything new to do?”

“No... still just delivery boy. But hey, maybe next year I can work up towards manager.”

“I'd... really hope you'd be working somewhere new by this time next year but sure, whatever floats your boat, son.”

“Hey, I like delivering pizza. You wouldn't believe how many pretty girls I meet! It's amazing.”

“Henry Allen! You be careful. Do not go around knocking one of those floozys up!” Rusty reprimands. “You have a future to think about, you know.”

Hank grew silent and then, “You think I have a future?”

His father is taken back. “Of course I do. You're a Venture. You're... my son. You can do anything and I don't want you selling that future short, Hank.”

“Well... I'm glad you believe in me. But really, what future can I really have? Dean has all the brains. I'm not even good at anything.”

Rusty sighed, leaning against the shopping cart. “Look, once I get home later, after dinner, you and me will sit down and we'll find something that you're good at.”

“Really?” Hank's voice sounds hopeful from the other end of the line.

“Really.”

“Okay, Pop.”

“And Hank?” he says before they hang up. “You may not be Batman, but you're a Venture and that's close enough.”

…

Rusty was getting ready to make his sons' favorite food when Dean walked in to the kitchen.

“Whatcha doin?”

“Making you boys a special treat tonight.”

Dean raised an eyebrow at the ingredients he had assembled on the counter. “Dad, I don't really want Mac n' Cheese.”

“Don't be ridiculous, sweetie! You love this stuff!”

“I don't eat face!” he complained, crossing his arms.

“For the last time, Dean, cheese doesn't come from face!”

“Yes it does! The dairy in cheese comes from cows!”

“Oh, for heaven's sake!” Rusty said throwing his hands in the air. “Fine, if I make you your... vegan cheese or whatever, will you be happy?”

Dean beamed. “Yes. Yes I will.”

“Fine.” the scientist grumbled beginning to look in the pantry. “Wait... where is that vegan cheese stuff?”

“We don't have any. And besides, it's kept in the fridge. It's just like cheese.”

Rolling his eyes skyward. “Oh my god, you mean I have to go back to the store?”

“I can go.” Dean said going to grab his jacket.

“No, no, I'll go-”

“Pop! You never let me do anything! I'll be fine, I promise. It's just the grocery store.”

Rusty looked at his son and how grown up he had become. After a moment he nodded, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, okay, you're right. You're a big boy. A college man.”

He watches him go, a tear in his eye he swears is just a speck of dust. He isn't sentimental dammit.

…

Finally that night, they are all back in one place at the penthouse and settled down to dinner together. Vegan mac n' cheese for Dean and regular for everyone else. Dean insists they try his but of course they all refuse. Dean just rolls his eyes and mutters, “More for me then.”

Rusty is distracted by his phone as he is scrolling through his bank account noticing several large purchases he doesn't remember authorizing.

“Brock.”

“Hm?” he responds, a mouth full of food.

“What did you spent $240 on at The Reginald?”

Brock glances over at the man's phone suspiciously. “I didn't. I've never even heard of that place. What is it?”

“The Reginald. I dunno. It says we spent two hundred and forty dollars and seven cents there last month. And then there's a few more here I don't recognize. Experience? The Kangaroo? Bazaar? What is all this?”

Hank and Dean visibly shrink in their seats and stop eating, all eyes focused on the two men. Rusty glances at Brock and then shoves the phone his way. He drops his fork on the plate and it makes a loud clanking noise.

Scrolling through the transaction, his eyes widen at the sight. “There's like... I dunno, like a thousand dollars here missing at these places. You gotta call the bank, Doc. Somebody's got a hold of your card.”

“No, no. I have it right here. I didn't lose my bank information. What do you think I am?”

“Well, I dunno! I didn't spend this money and you didn't so clearly something's gone wrong with the account here.”

The twins watched as they began to fight back and forth anxiously. A moment later Hank stands up from the table prompting them to stop and look his way.

“I have something to say. It's... not easy for me to say but... here I go. I was the one that made those purchases.”

Rusty's mouth drops open in shock and speechlessness while Brock narrows his eyes dangerously.

“Excuse me?” he utters darkly.

Hank begins to panic and looks to his brother for help who just sinks further down in his chair avoiding all stares from his family.

Rusty stands up too then, hands placed on the table in front of him. “So let me get this straight, you take my credit card and go on a... a... shopping spree around town?!”

The blonde bit his lip and nodded. “But... it wasn't just me! Dean said he wanted new clothes and I-”

“Hey!” Dean shouts standing as well.

“Dean?!” Rusty exclaims, turning his eyes on his youngest.

Brock stands up very carefully and quietly, keeping his voice low and his eyes cast down at the table.

Hank swallows audibly.

Brock moved to walk around the table and closer to the twins. “Listen to me... you two are going to pay back every cent that you spent on that credit card. You're both getting jobs-”

“I have a job.” Hank shrugged.

“Oh, I know. You're getting a second one. And no T.V., no cellphone, no video games, no computer, nothing... for two months.”

“Two months?!” they both exclaimed.

Rusty placed his hands on his hips. “You're lucky it's only two months. I can't believe you two! We don't have money like this for... for clothing!”

“Yes we do!” Hank complained.

“Oh really, Mister? Did you go out and earn that money?”

Hank just sighed melodramatically.

“Oh and also? You're returning all of it and getting the money back.” Brock crossed his arms over his chest.

“That's not fair! I don't even have any clothes. I need them!” Dean insisted.

Rusty and Brock glanced at each other for a moment before the scientist walked around the round table as well. “Well, that may be true but you didn't have to steal my credit card to buy them.”

“I didn't! Hank did. I just thought-”

“You just thought, what? That Hank was rolling in it working at Bob's Pizza?”

The brunette just shrugged helplessly.

Brock put his hand on both of their shoulders. “I'm not mad. I'm just disappointed.”

...

It was about two weeks into their punishment when Rusty got a text message from his oldest son.

Friday February 19th, 2016  
3:06 PM Hank: Did you see my facebook post?  
3:07 PM Pop: no… why? what did you do?  
3:07 PM Pop: hank answer me  
3:08 PM Pop: what the hell?  
3:10 PM Pop: i just looked at your facebook but i don’t know what you’re talking about

3:11 PM Daddy: dean what the hell did hank do?  
3:11 PM Dean: I don’t know? Which thing are you talking about?  
3:12 PM Daddy: he didnt want me looking at his facebook for some reason  
3:13 PM Dean: Oh, I don’t know what that was about. But, he did go out to a club last night. I tried to tell him.  
3:13 PM Pop: i know what you did.  
3:14 PM Hank: Dean is a liar

…  
  
Failure is a part of life so you must accept it. Life is struggle. It makes no sense to strive or care as it most likely will not work out. But we try anyway because we are human. Such is the human condition and it is an important one. If it is meant to be it will happen. Trying is a part of life and the very essence which makes us human.  
  
They say don't sweat the small stuff as the big stuff is really what matters. The Ventures don't seem to have the luxury to even consider sweating the small stuff. They're much too busy for any of that.  
  
…

5 Months Later

He woke up late on a Sunday morning, sunlight streaming through the slightly ajar curtains and shining across his face. He shifted to move on to his side but found his left arm trapped under some weight and cracked an eye open to see.

There, Brock lay on top of it snoring gently.

Rusty smiled and tried to gently tug his arm out from under him which only caused him to snore louder and reached out to grasp his body firmly against him.

He sighed. He wasn't going to be able to get up without waking the man. From this angle he wasn't able to reach the two way wrist communicator or see the alarm clock. But if he had to take a guess at how late it was he was thinking about 11am.  
  
His stomach began to growl unhappily and he let his mind drift to the thought of french toast and potatoes with a nice cup of coffee on the side.  
  
That sounded good. After several moments of laying there and being on the verge of falling back asleep, the larger man finally shifted slightly and then rolled onto his other side, freeing him completely. He used to opportunity to slip out of bed stealthily and head downstairs for some much needed coffee.  
  
…  
  
Later that evening, Rusty sat in the back of the cab letting his mind just zone out. He was on his way across town to meet his “man” for dinner and some drinks. The only reason he was currently alone was Brock had insisted that he had some things to take care of and asked him to meet him later. After rushing out of the penthouse earlier in the day, Rusty had spent some much needed time alone “vegging out” in front of the TV. It wasn't often he had the house to himself anymore and the last several months had been so busy with work he hadn't had any time to just relax.

Combine all that with Brock's new found insistence that he always accompany him now when out and about. He supposed it was a sort of callback to his bodyguard days back in Colorado. Then again, New York was way more dangerous than Colorado Springs and the man never let him forget that, often reminding him once or twice daily.

The driver brought the car to an abrupt halt as a few people jumped out into the street, apparently not wanting to wait a few more seconds for the light to change but then again that was how pedestrians were in this town. Rusty winced as the seat belt had attempted to strangle him. The driver muttered something to him over his shoulder but he couldn't hear over the noise of the other cars' around them honking.

Finally, they arrived in front of the restaurant and Rusty thanked the man, handling him his credit card to pay. Stepping out of the car, he looked over the exterior of the restaurant.

The building was a deep brown in color and as dusk was heading into night, the light from the inside was pouring out onto the street bathing him in a warm glow. Moving forward towards the door he was greeted by a taller man who smiled warmly, bowing slightly as he stepped forward to open the door for him.

Walking inside, he was immediately greeted by the maitre d who also smiled and began moving towards him. “Dr. Venture, I presume?”

Rusty was taken back, blinking in confusion, “Uh... yes?”

“Ah, we have been expecting you! Please... this way.”

Among the tables of the very well to do were many waiters and waitresses going about their busy night serving and taking orders as well as serving up orders of champagne and various wines. Rusty followed the maitre d down to a more secluded area of the restaurant. He began to feel insecure with the way he'd dressed. Sure, he was wearing a suit but it was simple and white, not anything near fancy enough for this place. Why had Brock chosen this place, anyway? What was wrong with their normal routine of thai food?

“Ah... here we are, Dr. Venture. Enjoy.” the man said leaving him face to face with none other than Brock.

He stood from his seat at the intimate little table and Rusty felt like his breath had been knocked right out of him. Not only was he dressed head to toe in the finest tuxedo he'd ever seen the man in but he seemed even taller than normal, more handsome and more suave.

“Uhh... Brock-”

“Here, sit.” he said moving to pull out his chair for him. He paused, waiting for him to sit and when he did only then did he move back towards his own seat across from him.

The candlelight that surrounded them danced and moved from the rush of air from the action. Rusty swallowed, suddenly feeling very caught off guard.

“I'm glad you could join me, Doc.”

“Yes... well, what are we doing here? This is... this place is... very expensive, you know.”

Brock shrugged unfolding the white, cloth napkin in front of him. “It doesn't matter.”

Rusty narrowed his gaze at that. “Yeah, well-”

“Doc. Would you relax, please? There's a reason I wanted to have dinner here.” he interrupted him, a crease beginning in the middle of his eyebrows in that way Rusty loved.

He began to unfold his napkin as well, shutting his trap as a waiter approached them with a bottle of wine and began pouring it out into their glasses. Doc raised an eyebrow as the waiter left, the bottle now sitting chilled on ice in a wine bucket stand.

“I ordered ahead of time.” Brock offered by way of explanation.

“Ah.” Rusty nodded. “Well... why is it you wanted to have dinner here instead of Dee Daa? I really like that place.”

“Well... “ he began, trying to hide the smile that was threatening to overtake his face. “The thing is-“

He was interrupted however by the loud ringtone of the older man's vPhone. It was playing some outrageous, rock tune at a severely high volume.

“Doc! Would you turn that off?! Jesus!”

“Sorry!” he said as he struggled to silence the thing. “Sorry, it's just uh... I think Hank might have... might have changed my ringtone or something.” Finally silencing the call, he put it away. “Anyway... you were saying?”

Brock's eyes flitted over towards a few of the waitstaff who seemed to be standing by for something. Rusty followed his gaze perplexed. Brock cleared his throat bringing his attention back to him. “The thing is-”

Once again he was interrupted by the sound of the obnoxious ringtone. Rusty really looked embarrassed now. “Sorry! Jesus!!” He angrily punched at the answer button. “Hank, this better be important!”

“It is, Pop!” His son's cheerful voice filtered through the phone's speaker and to his ear. “I want to order this hoverboard online but I can't find your credit card.”

Rusty's face exploded in rage. “What?!”

Across the table, Brock sighed impatiently. The candlelight flickered between them. The scientist held up a finger towards him as he turned away slightly and continued speaking to Hank.

“Hank! I swear to-”

“Doc-”

“Hank!”

“Doc, look-”

“I don't care that you would look really cool on it-”

“Oh, for Christ's sake!” Brock's voice boomed as he leapt to his feet, nudging the entire table just enough to knock over each of their wine glasses spilling the red liquid across the white tablecloth. “Doc, will you marry me?!”

The restaurant seemed to come to a halt completely. The nearby tables grew quiet, the waiters stopped in their tracks and even Rusty and Hank paused in their conversation. He quickly dropped the vPhone by mistake and it fell to the ground and smashed its' screen.

“What... what did you say?” Rusty asked quietly, voice full of hope.

Brock sighed, unhappy with the way the night's plans had seemed to go up in flames. “I said... I said, will you marry me?” he continued quietly.

The older man jumped to his feet in joy, eyes shining with glee. “Of course I will!”

Despite the interruption in schedule, the waitstaff seemed to have caught on and immediately rushed over to their table beginning their choreographed plan. Two began serenading them by playing violins, another brought over fresh glasses, this time for some champagne.

Rusty moved around the table to throw his arms around Brock's larger, muscular shoulders and he reached down around the slender man to pull him up into a proper embrace and kiss.

FIN.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The greatest challenge in life is to find someone who knows all your flaws, differences and mistakes and yet still sees the best in you.


End file.
